Black on White
by alsdssg
Summary: It began when Murtagh and Arya have a conversation in an inn on Dras Leona just before the fight at Helgrind. So much more happened after that. MurtaghArya and EragonNasuada, implied MurtaghNasuada and EragonArya, at least in the beginning.
1. To Forget

Black on White

_Step one you say we need to talk  
He walks you say sit down it's just a talk  
He smiles politely back at you  
You stare politely right on through  
Some sort of window to your right  
As he goes left and you stay right  
Between the lines of fear and blame  
And you begin to wonder why you came_

_-The Fray in How to Save a Life_

This is sort of a challenge for myself. There have only been three or four of these pairings written, so I thought I'd write one to increase the number.

Disclaimer: Don't own. Don't sue. Thank you.

Arya walked into the inn. She sat down by the bar table as she glanced around in distaste. The place smelled of men, sweat, and dirt. Oh well. This had been her idea. She had gone with Eragon and his cousin to Dras Leona, and she had suggested that they ask around to find out whatever they could about Helgrind.

She felt an arm snake around her waist. She turned and saw a drunken man leering at her.

"Get off me," she said quietly.

"Playing hard to get, eh, precious?" the man slurred.

Arya narrowed her eyes.

"No, I am simply objecting to your attention," she said.

The man started laughing. "Oh, you're one of them cold, dark whores. I like you all the more then."

Arya dug her nails into his wrist. He let go of her with a howl. She got up, and her chair fell back on the man's foot.

"Don't ever make the mistake of thinking I'm a whore again," she hissed to him. The man fell over the back of a chair and crashed into the table as he tried to get away from her.

The inn door opened, and a tall young man strode in. He surveyed the inn. His dark eyes fell on her. A look of shock and then amusement crossed his face. Arya felt her stomach clench. This wasn't good.

Everyone in the inn watched him. Many of the peasants had never seen a sword, let alone one like the red one that hung from his waist. Zar'roc. Misery. His looks had become more elfin but in a different way from Eragon's. He still possessed the savageness of human appearance. His face had simply become paler, his hair darker, and the angles on his face sharper.

The rider gripped her shoulder whispered, "You will come with me. I will not hurt you, but you will come."

"How come she goes with you?" the drunk slurred.

Murtagh threw a coin at the bartender. The man caught it. Arya followed him to a separate room.

"What do you want?" she asked.

"Sit," Murtagh ordered.

"I asked you a question," Arya said.

"I told you to sit," Murtagh repeated.

Arya sat. "Now, will you answer my question?"

"I am interested: why are you skulking around an inn in Dras Leona?" he asked. "I know you're here for my cousin's fiancée, but I honestly thought you'd just go to Helgrind."

"I'm trying to find out what I can about Helgrind," Arya said. "Now, if you don't mind, I have to go. If you intend to kill me, stop procrastinating."

"I don't intend to kill you. At least until I have to fight you all at Helgrind," Murtagh replied.

"Then, I think I'll go," she said.

"You don't need to gather anymore information," Murtagh told her as she went to stand.

"Why not?" she asked.

"Because I'll tell you that they're at the top. The entrance is hidden by an illusion. You or Eragon should be able to sense it. Don't go into the lair if the Ra'zac are near the entrance," Murtagh said. "Now, since I've spared you, the least you can do is share a drink with me."

"Who spared whom here? I think it may have been the other way around," Arya said coldly.

"Not even elves can surpass the riders," Murtagh said. "Galbatorix knows things they are too weak to know."

"The last time I checked, you were Murtagh, not Galbatorix," Arya shot back.

"Is there really a difference to you?" Murtagh inquired. "I defeated your precious rider."

"And you let him go."

"And I paid dearly for it."

"How dearly?"

"Nothing a woman should have to hear."

"Both you and Eragon seem to have trouble remembering I am not one of your helpless females. Besides, I do not think either one of you makes the mistake of thinking the lady Nasuada weak."

Murtagh's face changed briefly. "Well that's Nasuada, isn't it?" he muttered to himself. He looked at Arya and said, "If you had thought, you might have considered that I might not want to speak of my experiences, vanyali."

"I survived Gil'ead, and I told others of what happened," Arya said.

"You told your own people and Eragon. What are you to me?"

"How should I know?"

"And yet a few moments ago you seemed to think you knew all. Besides, Gil'ead is nothing to Urû'baen. You survived Gil'ead. I survived Urû'baen. That would prove me stronger."

"You still live and breathe because the king wanted you to. But have you really survived?"

"What do you mean?"

"You seem to have changed."

"You who know me so little would presume to say that I have changed?"

"I saw you a little when I went to thank you for saving my life, and I saw you more after the battle under Farthen Dûr."

"So I have saved your life twice, vanyali."

"When I last checked, the count was one."

"I have spared you this time."

"We have already spoken of this, and it was not a life-saving. You have caused me less trouble than you could."

"If it pleases you, I would cause you more."

"It would please me if you let me leave."

"But you owe me your life at least one over."

"What do you want?"

"Interest compels me to ask you these things."

"Is that all?"

"Were you hoping for more?"

"Were you?"

"You have not answered the question."

"I asked first."  
"I think you did."

"No, I am sure it was you."

"If you wish it, vanyali, we shall disregard the question."

"I do."

"Manipulative as elves always are."

"And you truly believe Galbatorix never manipulated anyone?"

"Treason, vanyali."

"Maybe for you."

"You asked me to say it."

"Do you say it?"

"Do I need to? Don't actions speak louder than words?"

"What actions? You killed the dwarf king."

"I have heard that elves dislike dwarves."

"And they dislike us."

"Then why do you allow me to call you vanyali? It's a dwarf word, is it not?"

"I didn't care."

"What do you care about?"

"Some things. You?"

"Some things."

"That's what I said."

"Do you really think we are that different?" Murtagh asked.

Arya stared at him. He stared back. She hated the way his dark eyes seemed to bore into her skull. She seemed to make the same impression on him.

"Maybe we aren't," she said at last.

"Now, answer my question," Murtagh continued.

"Only if you answer mine," Arya conceded.

Murtagh nodded in accession.

"What do you want to know?" Arya asked.

Murtagh seemed to think for a moment before saying, "I know Eragon liked you. It was obvious. Anyone could see it. He was never very good at hiding how he feels. How do you feel about him?"

"That is a question I have never pondered," Arya replied.

"Why not?"

Arya smiled ruefully. "When you examine something, you may find things best left undiscovered."

"So you do like him?"

"I said I've never examined my feelings, so I do not know."

"Interesting. You can have what you want, but you chose not to have it. I would have what I want, but I can't," Murtagh remarked.

"What do you want?" Arya asked.

"That's the second time you've said that tonight."

"You're avoiding the question."

"At least I don't refuse to discover how I feel. At least I know so I can hide it."

"I'm older than you, human. Much older."

"You're an elf. You cannot compare my life span to yours."

"But as a rider you have all eternity. I am fair in comparing my age to yours."

"Maybe you are," Murtagh shrugged. "Age is just a number though."  
"Are you saying I act younger than I should or you act older than your should?" Arya demanded.

Murtagh shrugged again. "Whatever you want, vanyali."

"Will you please stop calling me that?"

"I thought you said you didn't care."

"I have a name, you know."

"Fine, Arya," he said. He said her name slowly, as though tasting it.

"I fear I must ask this a third time. I've been franker with you than I usually am with anyone. Tell me what you want."

"Things that are folly and long since beyond me," Murtagh replied.

"I long for the dead to rise again. I long for one too young for me. I cannot obtain this. Whatever you want can not be as foolish as what I want."

"I long for the leader of those Galbatorix have declared my enemies. Is that folly not greater than yours, Arya?"

It had been a long time since she had heard her name uttered without the courteous Svit-kona or Dröttningu attached. Even Eragon had begun to refrain from using it. Her mother had stopped using the honorific, thankfully.

"Your folly is only great if you consider it so."

"Well, I do."

"Then it is."

"You were never taught to comfort or to console, were you?"

"I used to know how to behave among my own people. I've forgotten some of it. I've never learned to behave among humans. You look for comfort from the wrong person, rider."

"I have a name, you know."

Arya paused before saying his name. "Murtagh."

"We were supposed to be sharing a drink, were we not?" Murtagh said after a pause.

"I dislike human drink," Arya said. She silently pulled a flask of faelnirv from her pack.

"What is that?" Murtagh asked.

"Faelnirv."

"What does it do? Can it make you forget for a while?"

"Maybe. There's not enough of it now."

"Then I'll stick with our vile human stuff."

"Your choice. It never helps to forget for one night because you'll just remember in the morning."

"For once, I suppose it is." Murtagh passed her a goblet of the mead anyway. She took from him. His large, calloused fingers briefly touched her long, thin, dry ones.

She took a sip of the faelnirv. Then she stared into the cup Murtagh had given her. She saw Fäolin's face in the goblet. She blinked, and it had been replaced by Eragon. She blinked a second time, and it became someone she barely remembered: Evandar.

"What's wrong?" Murtagh asked concernedly.

"What?"

"You were crying just then."

"Maybe you're right. Maybe I do need to forget for just tonight." She downed the cup in one gulp. The taste was horrible, but it had a certain dulling effect. She reached across the table to grab the pitcher. Murtagh reached for it at the same time. He grabbed her wrist instead of the pitcher.

"I'm sorry," he said as he let go of it.

"Don't be. I need to forget for one night. So do you," she replied. She felt Murtagh's shock and then response as she pressed her lips against his.

"Forget with me," she whispered. "Remember in the morning if you must, but forget tonight. Forget what we are and what will happen soon. Forget what you want and cannot or will not have."

"I want you now," Murtagh whispered back.

He knocked the wind out of her when he slammed her against the table, but she didn't care. She would no doubt tomorrow, but it wasn't tomorrow yet. They twisted in the darkness of the spare room of an inn in Dras Leona. Tomorrow she would tell Eragon what she had found. That was all anyone would ever know of this night. That was all they needed to because it didn't really matter in the long run.

That was just a pointless story. I hoped you liked it. Please review.


	2. She's Doomed Herself

She's Doomed Herself

_So I will turn her virtue into pitch_

_And out of her own goodness make the net_

_That shall enmesh them all._

_-Iago, in Othello_

Disclaimer: I don't really own anything in this story except for the plot and maybe some OCs. If I even put OCs. Only time can tell.

Arya opened her eyes slowly. Her body was sore from last night's activities. It had been full of pain and pleasure at the same time. At least she hadn't been a maiden. She would have only been hurt worse and pleasured less. She untangled herself from Murtagh's muscular arms and walked around the room, picking up her clothes. She had just finished pulling on her boots when she felt something strange pulling at her. It was coming from Murtagh's pack. She had felt that pull before.

She glanced at the rider. His sleeping features were slackened and as peaceful as they could have possibly been. She knew Murtagh hadn't lived to know peace even as he slept. She also knew that he would most likely not rise for at least a half an hour. This gave her comfort as she opened his back slowly and carefully. Inside it, she saw exactly what she had known she would. She removed it.

She pulled the flask of faelnirv off the table and used to replace the object she was intending to take. She put the thing in her own pack, and before she left the spare room, she whispered the words, "Thank you," to Murtagh.

Since Murtagh had paid the innkeeper already, she walked out of the place without saying a word to anybody. She didn't even react when he winked and said, "Busy night, eh lass?"

She made her way across the streets toward the Cathedral of Dras Leona. It was she, Roran, Eragon, and that woman from Carvahall had agreed to meet. What was her name again? Birgit was what Arya thought it was.

Even as an elf, she could not help but be impressed by the Cathedral's greatness. She also thought of how terrible it was that the priests had wasted their money on this monument to a malevolent rock formation when so many in Dras Leona were starving. She reached into her pack and handed a beggar sitting on the steps a coin. The dirty-faced child grinned at her. Arya was surprised to find herself grinning back. It had been a long time since she'd smiled.

She strode through the doors and down the long aisle. Eragon, Roran, and Birgit were all kneeling before the altar. Arya knelt down next to Eragon and asked in whisper, "Did you find anything?" Eragon shook his head.

"Nobody knew anything about it. They all hate Helgrind, but they're too scared to say anything, so they just don't talk about it," he replied.

"That's understandable. Did Roran or Birgit find anything?"

Eragon shook his head again.

Arya took a deep breath before she said, "I found out something important. They're at the top. We have to fly up there and reach it from behind. There's an illusion that hides it. I know the spell that can end it. I was also warned not to go in there if I sensed the Ra'zac near the entrance."

"That sounds complicated," Roran put in.

Arya nodded.

Eragon frowned at her. "Who told you this?" he asked. "It doesn't seem likely that somebody would know all this."

"I got it from one of Galbatorix's men," Arya said. It was partially true.

"Who?" Eragon pressed.

"A soldier," she replied.

"Arya Svit-kona, forgive me for asking, but how did you get this soldier to tell you all this?" Eragon inquired tentatively.

"He does not love the king, but he serves him because he must, or so he told me. I believe we can trust him in this information," Arya explained. Then she added, "Please, Eragon, call me Arya. There is not need for formality among humans."

Eragon nodded.

"We should go," Brigit hissed. All four of the people crossed themselves and left the Cathedral.

Murtagh stirred and opened his dark eyes. Arya was no longer lying against him, nor was she even in the room.

_I dreamed her,_ he thought. _But why her?_

He reached out for Thorn, but the ruby dragon had already done so.

_I don't think you dreamed it, Murtagh. I think she left. No woman, especially an elf princess, could hold her head up after what happened last night,_ the dragon jested.

_You're not making me feel any better, Thorn. Besides, it was probably just a twisted dream,_ Murtagh replied.

_Then why can I feel the pain from the scratches on your back? It's not your scar. You told me that it hasn't hurt you since you were ten,_ Thorn argued.

_It doesn't make it any better if it was real. If it was real, I spent last night making love to a woman I don't love,_ Murtagh retorted.

_Murtagh, you have to stop this. When you eat, you don't even notice what you're eating. Sometimes, I think you'd drink horse piss if they put alcohol in it. You train as hard as Galbatorix wants you to, but your hearts isn't in it. You're losing you. It's been like this since you let Eragon go,_ Thorn admonished.

_Stop it, Thorn!_ Murtagh shouted. _I don't know why I'm like this. It's the way it is. We both just have to deal with it._

_You do know why you're like this. You're like this for the reasons you told the elf last night. You couldn't tell me, your own dragon, this, but you told an elf you barely knew. You want what you can never have. You kill people you don't hate. You can't stand yourself, can you? But let me tell you something: you'd better learn to stand yourself. You'd better find something you can put your heart into because if you go I go, and if I go you, you go_, Thorn said.

_You're right,_ Murtagh acknowledged. _You're always right._

_I do try,_ Thorn agreed.

_We might as well finish testing the egg on everyone in this god-forsaken city,_ Murtagh said. When he mentioned the egg, Murtagh noticed something wrong. Thorn noticed it too.

_The egg had better be there, Murtagh,_ Thorn said. The dragon's voice was full of barely concealed apprehension.

He leapt up and ran over to his pack. He tore it open. All that was in it was a flask of faelnirv.

Murtagh grabbed the faelnirv and hurled it against the wall.

"Damn you, vanyali!" he yelled.

_You lost the egg?_ Thorn shouted. _Oh, I thought Galbatorix was mad at you for letting Eragon go, but this? At least then you had past friendship as your reason last time. Now what have you got? All you can say is that you lost the egg because you couldn't control your own damn lust for some rotting elf bitch. We'll be lucky if he kills us at this rate. He might kill you and give me to someone else. _

_Do you really think I haven't thought of that, Thorn?_ Murtagh asked. He was breathing hard to calm himself down. He wasn't sure what angered him more: Thorn's justified rant or Arya's justified theft. _We'll just have to go to Helgrind and get it back. If we bring her back with the egg, Galbatorix might actually be pleased with us. _

Thorn seemed to be calming down as well. _You're right this time. I'm sorry. I lost control. We'll just have to go. Hopefully, we can fight her alone. Galbatorix made us swear to not show mercy to Eragon and Saphira again, but I know you don't want to capture them, and we don't need the king punishing us for another loophole. _Thorn was silent for a moment. Murtagh could practically see his dragon shaking his head as he said, _That elf has doomed herself, hasn't she?_

_That she has,_ Murtagh agreed. _That she has._

Arya, Eragon, Roran, and Birgit made their way back to the camp. Saphira looked at them.

_I heard you found out how to get into the Helgrind,_ she said to Arya.

The elf nodded.

Saphira's blue eyes suddenly focused on Arya's pack.

_What's in there?_ the blue dragon asked, sounding both anxious and excited at the same time.

Arya reached into the pack and pulled out a large emerald green stone covered in white veins.

Yes, I decided to continue. I know nothing much happened in this chapter. I'm almost done one of my fics, and I know how I'm gonna end the other two. One of the other two is sort of close to being done. I know Thorn sounded a little mean in this chapter, but that's because he's worried about Murtagh, and the theft of the green dragon egg by Arya didn't help improve his feelings. I just want to say right now that Arya will NOT be the next rider. Who do you want the next rider to be: Roran, Nasuada, or an OC? If you want it to be an OC, please, feel free to send me character profiles. Also, for the OC, do want them to serve Galbatorix or the Varden? Should Murtagh get Arya and the egg or just Arya?

Inyellel: Well, I've decided to continue. I hope you liked this chapter.

Blizzardstar2000: Ah, hissy computers. I know the feeling. I'm glad you liked the first chapter. I know Murtagh/Arya is a weird pairing, but it's unique, and it can make sense. They are similar in personality. They might not end up together in this fic, but their will be some sort of understanding and desire on both sides. I hope this one was as good as you thought the last one was. The reason I stopped putting said and such after each character spoke was to avoid interrupting the dialogue. I'm sorry if that got a little confusing.

CaptainUnderpants92: No, that is not it. I can write so many stories because I'm good like that. Why do you get to see the Eragon movie a day early? You're really lucky.

Tallacus: I didn't mention Thorn because it was in Arya's P.O.V. Thorn had a big role in this chapter. I hope you liked my portrayal of him. Once again, he's not usually that mean. He's just worried, and the thing with the egg pissed him off.

Ebz: I know why you didn't like it. I don't think the rating will have to change. I was very careful about how I had Thorn talk about Arya for that reason. There will be romance in this, but it'll be different.

Tillywilly: Thanks. I tried to make it realistic. Murtagh and Arya seem to have a lot of bitter realism to them, especially Murtagh.

Fredsonetrueluv: I agree with you on all counts.


	3. Give Back What Is Mine

Give Back What Is Mine

_Dear stone, GIVE BACK WHAT IS MINE_

_-A poem for A Great and Terrible Beauty called_ Dear Stone

Disclaimer: I don't own anything except a possible OC. I might put one in.

Eragon stared at the stone in Arya's hand. It was almost exactly like Saphira's egg had been. The only difference was the color.

"What soldier did you meet, Arya?" he asked.

"I didn't say I'd gotten it from him," she retorted.

"Then where did you get it?" Eragon pressed.

"From the soldier," she replied.

"Why did he have the egg?" Eragon asked. He had a terrible sinking feeling. There seemed to be only two people likely to have had the egg, and only one of them would have been in Dras Leona.

"He was looking for its rider," Arya explained. "At least that's what I think. I stole it from him."

"Wait, what is that?" Roran asked.

"An egg," Eragon explained. He turned to Arya and asked, "What will you do with it?"

"I'll leave it in my pack. I was the currier for Saphira's egg. I need to restore my honor," Arya said.

"Let her do as she will," Birgit cut her off. "We need to get to Helgrind now."

"She's right," Roran said. "We don't have the time to find out about an egg. She has it; that's all we need to know."

Eragon nodded.

"Will we all fit on Saphira?" Arya asked. "If not, I can run."

_I think you will have to run,_ Saphira said apologetically. _I can fly you all to the top once we get there. We're too far away right now. _

Arya nodded. She slung her back and her bow over her shoulder and began to run.

Eragon mounted Saphira and pulled Roran and Birgit up behind him. Saphira spread her wings and took off.

Murtagh made his way to the palace of Dras Leona. Marcus Tábor had objected to keeping Thorn in the courtyard, but the governor hadn't really had been given a choice.

A group of nobles' and servants' children were clustered around the red dragon. Thorn looked up when he saw Murtagh coming.

_Finally. It took you long enough. I was beginning to wonder how I was going to get the minis away from me,_ Thorn groaned.

The children started clustering around Murtagh this time. They kept asking him to ride Thorn.

"I need to do something. Leave me alone," he demanded. They all ran at the sound of his anger.

_Don't snap at them,_ Thorn reprimanded.

_You're the one who called them minis,_ Murtagh retorted.

_Let's just stop fighting; go to Helgrind; and get the damn egg and elf back,_ Thorn said.

_Fine,_ Murtagh snapped. Thorn was right. They needed Arya and the egg to make things right again. That was, if you could call anything Galbatorix wanted right.

Arya slung herself into the saddle behind Eragon when Saphira stopped for a moment at the bottom of Helgrind.

"Where's the illusion supposed to be?" Eragon asked.

"We'll be able to sense it," she explained.

Eragon looked around. The top of Helgrind was solid, black rock. There was no illusion. Wait. There was.

"Is there a spell to break?" he asked Arya.

"Go through it," she said.

Eragon heard Roran suck in his breath as they passed through what seemed to be a wall of solid rock.

_We have to go down the tunnel single file,_ Saphira observed. _I'll go first._

Nobody said anything. Eragon walked behind Saphira, Roran behind him, Birgit behind him, and Arya behind her.

Arya turned when she heard a noise. A Ra'zac shrieked as it threw itself at her.

"Go!" she shouted to those in front of her.

Eragon started to protest, but Birgit said, "We can't help. She'll have to follow us."

The other four continued down the tunnel. Eragon looked back to see Arya kick the Ra'zac off her.

A Lethrblaka flew at Saphira almost the moment she left the tunnel and entered a huge chamber. It was almost as big as she. The two grappled in midair. Saphira kicked at its chest. It howled as her claws scratched it. It clamped its jaws over her wing in retaliation. Eragon jumped, grabbed the Lethrblaka's tail, and climbed onto its back.

Saphira didn't attack the Lethrblaka for fear that she would hurt Eragon; she only defended herself against its blows. It was so distracted by the fight against the dragon that it didn't notice Eragon.

The rider drew his borrowed sword and cut down into its neck. Saphira took advantage of the Lethrblaka's distraction to bite down on the thing's throat. Eragon held on to the Lethrblaka's neck as Saphira shook it back and forth.

The blue dragon let go of the Lethrblaka's corpse and let it fall to the ground. She caught Eragon in her teeth before he hit the ground.

Roran and Birgit both stood panting over the dead body of a Ra'zac who had come to join its mount. The latter had been hit in the side of the head. Eragon went to heal the woman, but she slapped his hand away. Clearly, she still blamed his family for her husband's death.

"That's one of those things down," Roran said, indicating the Lethrblaka. "Where's the other one?"

A cry tore split the air in answer to his question. The other Lethrblaka hurtled towards him in response. Roran drew his hammer and smashed it upon the thing's head. The blow didn't kill it, but it momentarily stunned it.

Its tail whipped around and pinned Roran against the wall. Birgit took advantage of its distraction and threw herself at the beat's neck. It swung its head, and Birgit was thrown headlong into the wall. The Lethrblaka seemed to ignore Eragon and Saphira as it bent its head to kill the unconscious woman. It hadn't.

As Eragon tried to do the same thing Birgit had, the Lethrblaka's tail whipped around and knocked him off his feet. Saphira tried to bite it from behind, but it whipped around and head-butted her. Once again, Saphira was locked in battle with one of the twisted dragons, but she was tired and weakened this time.

Eragon slowly rose up, as did Roran. Both crept toward the combatants. Neither had allowed the other to get off the ground this time.

"Letta!" Arya cried. The Ra'zac froze. It strained against the spell, and Arya wondered for a moment if it could counter magic physically. She stabbed the thing before it could do that.

She pulled her blade out of it and panted. She had fought the thing for so long. She had heard of the Ra'zac's strength, but she had never heard that they could rival an elf.

She started to walk down the tunnel when a casual voice said, "Letta." Arya felt herself freeze just as the Ra'zac had done only minutes earlier.

"Braka du vanyalí sem huildar eka," Arya said. The person who was holding seemed to weaken a bit, but so was she. At last, the magician loosed his hold on her.

She turned and saw Murtagh.

"What are you doing here?" she demanded.

"I simply want you to give back what is mine, vanyali," the man replied.

"No," she said.

"Give me your pack," Murtagh ordered.

"It's the Varden's hope," she argued.

"I thought that was Eragon," Murtagh sneered.

"You've changed since last night."

"Well, this morning I was robbed by a woman I spent the night with. That may not be the most traumatic thing that's happened to me, but it's made me rather cold towards her. And is Eragon not the Varden's hope?"

"You can never have too much hope," Arya retorted. She chose to ignore the first part of what Murtagh had said. "Anyway, who's to say that you won't take me even if I give you the egg? I know you will."

"You know me well. Funnily enough, that doesn't frighten me as it should."  
"Oh, I think it frightens you," Arya said as she lunged at him. Murtagh drew Zar'roc and barely caught her blow.

"Trying to kill me now, are we, vanyali?"

"Does it surprise you?"

Murtagh made a cut at her legs. She leapt over the crimson blade. Now was not the time for conversation.

"Brisingr," he yelled. Zar'roc's blade burned with a red fire.

"Adurna," Arya countered. Her weapon met his and doused the fire.

They circled one another, each waiting for the other to move. Murtagh's left hand moved slightly downward. Arya lowered her sword to block it. Murtagh took advantage of the opening and smacked on the side of the head with the flat of his blade. Arya stumbled.

"Slytha!" Murtagh shouted. Arya fell to the ground. Murtagh slung her over his shoulder and walked out of the tunnel. Thorn was waiting at the entrance for them.

_So, you are successful? _Thorn asked.

Murtagh nodded as he mounted the red dragon. He bound Arya's hands and feet. Thorn took off.

_Maybe our fortunes will increase,_ Thorn said as they flew back to the palace.

_Maybe, but hope is toxic,_ Murtagh replied.

_True—true, _Thorn said.

Eragon finally managed to put his sword through the Lethrblaka's eye. The warm blood of the creature's brain gushed over his hand. He removed the sword.

He sat down beside Saphira and panted. His mind went to Arya. Why had she not yet come? Had the Ra'zac managed to kill her? It couldn't have. Oromis had said that elves were less vulnerable to the Ra'zac's enchantments. She couldn't have died. It just wasn't possible

_We'll go look for her. She may still be fighting, or she may be wounded and waiting for us,_ Saphira comforted.

_You're right,_ Eragon said. His spirits instantly rose.

Birgit, who had regained consciousness and went to join the battle, looked at him. So did Roran.

"What's wrong?" the latter asked.

"Nothing. I was just worried about Arya, but now I'm sure she'll be alright," Eragon replied. "I'll go back through the tunnel to look for her. You two can look for Katrina."

Roran and Birgit nodded and exited through the door to the left. It was the only other door besides the one that led back to the tunnel. Eragon walked down it. All he found at the end of the tunnel was the body of the Ra'zac.

Okay, that's the end of chapter three. Yes, Murtagh got Arya and the egg. I decided it would be better for the both of them if Murtagh returned with the egg. Now, concerning the new rider: they'll be the kings. I just want to know about a few things. One: male or female? Two: willing servant or forced slave? Three: you can give me your own ideas for the rider. I have two OCs in mind. One fits one mold; the other fits the other mold. We'll see what happens. Here are the review responses.

Inyellel: I agreed with you, but I decided the king should get the egg back. I did that for the reasons I said.

Fredsonetrueluv: Yeah, Thorn's just looking out for his welfare. The Varden does need as much help as possible, but they'll get it. I have a feeling this new rider of the king's won't be very powerful, at least not to start out. Thanks. I'm glad the update made you happy.

Blizzardstar2000: Thanks. I hope I answered all your questions. Murtagh/Arya was a personal challenge to myself, and it works in a weird way.

Siwenliu: Thanks. This new rider won't be as strong as Eragon, at least not at first.

Ebz: LOL. They are indeed. Not everyone will find out, but Eragon will.

Invaderm: I'm going to use an OC as the next rider. Like I said, I have two ideas for OCs. Thanks for thinking this is well-written.


	4. You Can't Get Away

You Can't Get Away

_Freedom ain't free._

_-I can't remember what book_

Disclaimer: Don't own. Don't sue. Thank you.

Murtagh climbed off of Thorn and put Arya down on the ground beside the dragon. He pulled two iron bracelets out of his backs. He would have to spell these properly to keep Arya from using magic when she awoke.

He turned the cuffs in his hands. Galbatorix had told him that there were different categories of spell and that you only needed to spell against those kinds of spells. It was one of the reasons the king's wards were so powerful.

His eyes fell on Arya as he spelled the iron against healing. She was beautiful; there was not doubt about that. She was almost too perfect for none could dream of her being human. Nasuada was gifted with a different beauty. She was dark-skinned where Arya was pale. Her eyes were black where Arya's were green. The only thing they had in common in the way of looks was their dark hair. Both women were so different. Arya was cold, distant, and as unreachable as anything; Nasuada was warm, kind, and in her own way unreachable. He knew he'd loved Nasuada. Maybe he still did. Maybe a small part of him existed that could still love.

Murtagh continued to look at Arya, shaking thoughts of what if from his head. It would never help him to think that he could have been with Nasuada.

The whole situation was ironic, really. The warm-hearted leader of the Varden seemed far more likely to love than this cold, dark elf. And yet what had fate chosen to give him? The princess of the elves. They'd been together last night. He had wanted that, and his pride told him that she had as well. His pride had decided that she had not known of the egg until morning.

_Pride's convenient, isn't it?_ Thorn remarked.

_Shut up. It doesn't matter now,_ Murtagh retorted.

_Unfortunately, you both have made it matter. She's going to be in Urû'baen for the rest of her life most likely,_ Thorn said.

_That life does not promise to go on for much longer,_ Murtagh said.

_True—true,_ Thorn replied.

Murtagh turned his gaze to Arya a third time. He managed to feel a little pity for her despite all the trouble she had caused them. He knew what he had said to Thorn was the truth.

He finished enchanting the iron bracelets and walked over to Arya. He bent over her, took a knife, and cut the bindings on her feet and then her hands.

Arya's eyes flew open, and she yelled, "Jierda!" Murtagh felt his leg snap as Arya leapt up, grabbed her pack, and ran.

Murtagh gasped in pain. He couldn't run after her with his leg like this, and even if he could have, he could not have caught an elf.

Thorn was not inhibited in this manner at all. He spread his wings and flew after Arya.

Arya ran so fast she thought her lungs would burst even though she knew Murtagh couldn't possibly catch her. She looked only ahead. She didn't look above, behind, or below her. Such was her mistake.

As she swerved around a stunted bush, she felt something clamp on the back of her shirt. She kept running, not caring that it tore.

Thorn would not give up either. He landed next to Arya and snaked his tail around her. When she tried to leap over it, he raised it up so that she tripped. The scarlet dragon picked Arya up in his paw and took off.

Murtagh was sitting next to fire when the dragon and elf returned. He had healed his broken leg and was cooking a meal. He didn't even look up when Thorn put Arya down. He muttered, "Slytha," and she fell asleep again.

The rider collapsed beside the fire. He'd used too much magic today. He didn't even have enough strength to be angry at Arya for trying to escape.

He managed to pull himself over to Arya and bind her hands. He fell into a deep sleep beside the elf. Anybody who saw them would not know whether they were lovers or jailor and prisoner. Murtagh and Arya didn't know either.

Eragon knelt by the dead body of the Ra'zac. Arya was gone. That same thought kept going through his head, but he failed to grasp it each time he thought it. It was hateful, impossible, unfathomable, and incomprehensible. Yet it was true. No, it wasn't. That was why he wasn't crying. It couldn't be true.

He heard footsteps along the tunnel. Saphira nudged him with her nose. Eragon turned around and saw Roran carrying an unconscious Katrina. Birgit was at his side.

Roran stopped in his tracks when he saw Eragon kneeling there.

"What's wrong?" he asked. He could only remember a few times when he'd seen Eragon that upset.

Eragon opened his mouth to answer, but he couldn't say the words, "Arya's gone." It was as though saying them would make it true. It was as though there was a chance that this was all some horrible mistake and that not saying she was gone would bring her back.

"Eragon?" Roran asked again. He moved slowly towards his cousin.

"Look, we have to get out of here," Birgit growled. "Who knows what other things are here?"

No one paid her any mind.

_We can't find Arya,_ Saphira explained.

Eragon drew in his breath and closed his eyes to keep back the tears.

"How can you lose an elf? The thing's dead. She must be here somewhere," Birgit said.

"Maybe she's looking for us or hiding," Roran suggested.

"Maybe," Eragon said. An idea was shaping in his mind. It was almost impossible, but it was the only thing that could make any sense.

"Katrina's hurt really badly. Could you heal her before you go looking for Arya?" Roran said.

"No, I can't," Eragon said. Before Roran could protest, the young rider continued, "We need to find her before it's too late. Murtagh's got her. I can't waste magic. Saphira can take you back to Surda and then join me."

"Eragon," Roran said fiercely. He sat Katrina down gently and put his hands on his cousin's soldiers. "You don't even know if that's true. You can't just go after Murtagh right now. You have no idea where he is, and you're tired out. You can't go after him without even Saphira," the older boy admonished.

"Stop being selfish, Roran!" Eragon yelled. "All you think about it Katrina. Arya's in more danger than anyone here right now, and you're telling me not to go after her."

"I'm not being selfish. I'm talking sense," Roran growled.

Eragon opened his mouth to retort, but Saphira cut him off by saying, _Roran's right. You don't stand a chance against Murtagh right now. We need to go back to Surda to think of a plan. I know you're upset about Arya, but you'll do her no service if you get yourself killed. _

Eragon knew she was right. He couldn't keep back his tears any longer. He lay on the floor of the tunnel and sobbed.

Roran put his hand on Eragon's shoulder and said, "Hey, I got Katrina back. I don't see why you can't get Arya back. There has to be a way."

Saphira muttered similar things to him. Birgit stayed back. She didn't know Eragon well enough to comfort him.

Finally, Eragon got off the ground and climbed into Saphira's saddle. Roran, Birgit, and Katrina mounted behind him.

_I'll get off and run once we're off Helgrind,_ he told Saphira.

_Just don't run to Urû'baen. As Roran and I said, you won't help Arya if you die trying to save her,_ the blue dragon warned.

_I wasn't going to,_ Eragon said.

Murtagh woke up when he heard the sounds of someone rummaging through the camp. He expected it to be Arya, so he was surprised when he saw her sleeping near him. He looked at Thorn. The ruby dragon had opened his eyes and was staring at someone just behind Murtagh. A low growl erupted from his throat.

I'll stop it there. Who does everyone think the intruder is? You'll find out next chapter.

P.S. I know who the next rider will be. That'll probably be revealed in the next chapter or the chapter after that.

Edur Cartungave: Actually, it's going to be a guy OC. I would have made it Orik, but dwarves can't be riders. They're not part of the pact made between the elves, the humans, and the dragons. I'm glad you like it so far. I hope I can make it great.

Sheenz + Raul: Actually, I am a Murtagh/Nasuada fan. Murtagh/Arya is just underdone, and I thought it would be an interesting idea to throw some of that into a fic. I added a little Murtagh/Nasuada into this chapter.

Ebz: Seriously? It was? I've never even seen Mr. and Mrs. Smith. I just know it's the film that got Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie together and broke Brad and Jennifer Aniston apart. Eh, all Hollywood romances are doomed from start to finish. I was so pissed about the movie. The thing with Murtagh not ripping off his shirt properly pissed me off a lot. The scar was in the wrong place too? What's up with that? I hope you liked this. I'm glad you like the story.

Inyellel: I'm glad you agree. So, did you hate the guts out of the Eragon movie? I sure did. Saphira and Brom were cool, and Murtagh was hot, but that's the only good I can say about it. Plus, baby Saphira was adorable.

Nate: I don't want to make her the third rider though. I think there are a lot of clues to the third rider's identity too. I think it could be three different people: Nasuada, Roran, or Arya. This one's a guy OC. Also, the reason Murtagh beat Arya fairly quickly was because she was already very tired from fighting the Ra'zac.

Rock Not War: Thanks.

Siwenliu: Some people might serve him for power.

Fredsonetrueluv: That is most likely what is going to happen. I'm glad you like the story.


	5. Intruder

Intruder

_In a forest of mixed growth somewhere on the eastern spurs of the Karpathians, a man stood one winter night watching and listening, as though he waited for some beast of the woods to come within the range of his vision, and, later, of his rifle. But the game for whose presence he kept so keen an outlook was none that figured in the sportsman's calendar as lawful and proper for the chase; Ulrich von Gradwitz patrolled the dark forest in quest of a human enemy._

_-The Interlopers by Saki _

Disclaimer: Don't own. Don't sue. Thank you.

"You," Murtagh yelled at the intruder.

"Me," came the reply as the bandit stepped into the light. He was a tall, thin young man with an angular face. His eyes were blue-gray, and his hair was light brown.

"Who are you?" Murtagh demanded.

"I'm me," the man replied. His grin became wider as his eyes fell on Arya. "Pretty little chit you've got with you. She caused quite a stir in that bar, yes, she did. And you're the man she went with. Interesting. Very interesting."

"That's wonderful," Murtagh said dully. "But that doesn't explain why you're here unless you decided you wanted to follow a woman who threw the last drunk who tried to seduce her into a table. Your name would be nice to know too."

"Well, one doesn't simply walk into a bar in Dras Leona, one of the Empire's poorest cities, wearing a valuable sword and carrying a great deal of money," the man shrugged. "As for my name, I don't see any reason to give it. One thief's the same as another, right?"

"Not all thieves are foolish enough to follow a man with a valuable that he presumably knows how to use onto the plains. Also, I think you're the only one who'd be foolish enough not to run when he saw a dragon," Murtagh replied.

"Not all thieves could've tracked you this far without you noticing, rider," the thief said, spitting the last word. "Since I haven't robbed you or stolen anything from, I think I'd best be going now. I'm sure it wouldn't kill to forgive a poor, simple peasant for trying to make a living."

_Don't let him go,_ Thorn ordered. _He has the egg._

"Letta," Murtagh barked as the man stood to leave.

"Wachoo magic me like that?" the thief asked indignantly.

"You did steal something of great value. Give it back," Murtagh ordered.

"He's been possessive about that thing. That's why I'm stuck here," Arya said, sitting up.

"Ooh, it's getting more interesting," the intruder said happily. "She tried to rob you too. And I think I can make it even more interesting now. Brakka du vanyalí sem huildar eka."

The thief didn't put up as good a fight as Arya. He was forced to relinquish the spell within a minute.

Arya was staring at the man. A look of shock had crossed her face.

"What are you looking at?" Murtagh asked her in a whispered. The thief still heard him.

"She's looking at me and thinking of how much better looking I am than you," the man chortled. Murtagh was beginning to wonder if he was insane.

Arya shook her head. "That's not it," she said slowly. Her eyes had traveled to the man's ears. Murtagh noticed they were slightly pointed.

The man stopped laughing. He simply grinned at Arya. "You know what I am, don't you?" he whispered.

"What is he?" Murtagh asked.

"He's half elf," Arya answered.

"That I am," the thief replied. "A half-breed by the name of Hathcyn. Even sounds a little like half-breed, doesn't it?"

Saphira landed in the courtyard of Borromeo Castle. Eragon was only a little ways behind them. He stopped and panted. Nasuada ran down the steps to greet them. She surveyed the party and asked, "Where is Arya?"

Eragon wouldn't meet her eyes or say anything.  
"Was she killed?" Nasuada asked tentatively. If Arya had been killed, Queen Islanzadí would be enraged.

Roran answered for his cousin. "Eragon believes that she was captured by Murtagh."

Nasuada's mouth opened in surprise. This could not be happening. She remembered well how the elfin queen had reacted to her daughter's capture last time. She also remembered how badly Arya had been injured. The worst part of the whole thing was who had captured her. Nasuada simply could not accept the fact that Murtagh had turned on them, even if he had been forced.

"How do you know, Eragon?" she asked.

"We all stopped in Dras Leona to ask about Helgrind. Arya was the only person who found anything out, but she found out a lot. When I asked her with whom she had spoken, she told me a soldier who disliked Galbatorix but had been forced to serve him had told her these things. She also said that she had stolen the last dragon egg from him. I thought about it, and I realized that only person besides Galbatorix who would know all those things and have egg would be Murtagh, and we would have known if Galbatorix had been in the city," Eragon explained.

"Did he attack any of you in Helgrind?" Nasuada asked. She thought something was missing.

Eragon shook his head. "We never saw him. Arya was attacked by one of the Ra'zac, and she told us to go on ahead. After we had finished fighting the rest of them, we came back to where Arya had been, and all we saw was the Ra'zac's corpse."

Nasuada sighed inwardly with relief. If Murtagh had not attempted to capture Eragon at Helgrind, that meant the king had not made him swear oaths too binding and without loopholes. It also meant that he was still not willingly their enemy. Yes, Nasuada decided. The only reason he had captured Arya was because she stole the egg. That much relieved her, but there was still the question of how they would get Arya back. She asked Eragon this.

The young rider shook his head. "I don't know. I was ready to follow her to Urû'baen at first, but I don't know how I could fight Galbatorix and Murtagh."

"We'll think of something, Eragon," Nasuada comforted. "There has to be a way to get her out of there." She turned to Roran, who was holding a woman who Nasuada assumed was his fiancée. "Take her to see Angela," she ordered. She then gave him directions to the healer's room.

"I'm going to go tell Orrin what happened," Nasuada said to Eragon. "You should go to Angela's with your cousin. You need to be healed. Then we'll think of plans." She put her arm around him, feeling a bit like his sister. She knew he loved Arya. She was also worried he might do something rash.

_Don't worry,_ Saphira told her. _I'll keep him on the right track._

_Thank you. We all need him to stay on that,_ Nasuada said.

Okay. So, what does everyone think of Hathcyn? They're going to get to Urû'baen next chapter. At least I hope they will.

Inyellel: I think most people did. I guess you're right; it didn't have much in the way of guts, did it? I'm glad you liked last chapter, and I hope you liked this one.

Parnagan: Thanks.

Ebz: Don't we all wish Murtagh could find us? LOL. There wasn't much in the way of romance in this chapter. The only real thing that happened was Hathcyn's introduction.

Edur Carthungave: I guess you're right. I would read that story though. I hope you write it. Galbatorix was a pretty good guess for the intruder, but it was just an annoying thief who will become more important as the story progresses.

Rock Not War: Thanks.

Fredsonetrueluv: I'm glad you liked that part. I tried to write that well. I thought Eragon had to get angry at Roran. The fact that Eragon loves Arya is going to increase the angst factor.

Daydreamin' Angel: No, there's nothing going on between them besides the fact that Eragon loves her and maybe she loves him. I'm not sure about Nasuada. I might put her with Eragon or somebody else. Tell me what you think should happen to her. She might get jealous if she finds out what Murtagh and Arya did.

Just me: You've got a point there. A dwarf rider. That's an interesting concept. I think the pact thing makes it less likely that a dragon would hatch for a dwarf though.


	6. One Little Word

One Little Word

_Jack: Why are you still here?  
Norrington: You hired me, remember? I can't help it if your standards are lax._

_-Pirates of the Caribbean II: The Dead Man's Chest_

Disclaimer: Don't own. Don't sue. Thank you.

"How is it that he is a half elf?" Murtagh asked Arya. Once again, Hathcyn took the liberty of answering the question himself.

"My father was one of those elves who went out from that forest. What's it called again? Oh, it doesn't matter. He met my mother a few times, and I got born. Not much else to say. You can see it's given me magic, agility, and a certain amount of stealth. Other than that, there's nothing left to say," Hathcyn shrugged.

Murtagh and Arya were silent.

"Is he telling the truth?" he asked Arya.

"For once, yes, I am," Hathcyn answered.

"I didn't ask you," Murtagh snapped.

"Glenwing did meet a human woman he liked very much," Arya said. "He is a half elf. Of that much, I'm sure."

"Well, now that we've cleared that up and I've returned all you stolen valuables, I really don't see why I should stay," Hathcyn said, clasping his hands together and getting up.

Murtagh and Arya didn't pay attention. They were both looking at the egg. Thin cracks were appearing on its surface.

"Why is that stone cracking?" Hathcyn asked. "You know, that really isn't my fault. I didn't touch it. Well, I did touch it, but not hard enough to break it. By the gods, why are you ignoring me?"

A wing burst out of the egg. Hathcyn's blue-gray eyes widened.

"Oh dear," he said.

An awkward green thing pulled itself out of the shell. It was encased in a thin membrane, and its wide emerald eyes stared at him. He supposed it was attractive. In its own way. He put out a hand to touch it. He pulled it away gasping in pain.

"Stupid thing burned me," he howled.

Murtagh sucked in his breath. This intruder was to be a rider?

_If Galbatorix doesn't kill him out of annoyance,_ Thorn put in.

_There's a point,_ Murtagh agreed.

"That's the gedwëy ignasia," Arya explained. She was hoping to keep this half elf from being too happy about being in Galbatorix's service. Perhaps being kind to him would help.

"The shining palm?" Hathcyn shrugged. "Not the most creative name, but that's neither here nor there." He stared at his palm. There was indeed a silver marking on it.

"You're the next rider?" Murtagh asked. He sounded as though he were being led to his execution.

"Hey, the thing hatched for me, remember? It's not my fault if its standards are lax," Hathcyn retorted.

"Stop calling it a thing," Murtagh ordered.

"Dragons are very rare and very powerful. They're extremely intelligent, and if they deign to take a rider, they set up a bond that can never be broken," Arya explained.

"So, it burned me to establish a bond?" Hathcyn muttered. "Not the way I would have chosen to do it, but each to his own." He reached out and stroked the dragon's head. It rumbled in contentment.

"Needs a name," he decided. "What do you want to be named?" he asked it.

He felt something touching his mind. He quickly put up his defenses and turned to Murtagh and Arya and yelled, "Hey, I know I tried to rob you two, but will you please get out of my mind?"

"It's the dragon," Arya explained. "Soon it will be able to talk to you."

"What is it? Male or female?" he asked.

"Male," Murtagh replied. "There's only one female dragon in existence, and she belongs to the Varden."

"I'll think of something when you can talk," Hathcyn decided. He patted the dragon on its head. It snapped at him.

"He doesn't like that," Arya said.

"Funnily enough, I figured that one out on my own," Hathcyn mumbled. "Not exactly sure what my first clue was, but…"

Murtagh glanced at Arya and then at Thorn. This new rider would likely drive him insane before long.

_Look on the bright side,_ Thorn comforted. _We have our rider for the king._

_I'll give you that,_ Murtagh said.

Galbatorix walked down to the lowest dungeon. There wasn't even a guard posted there. If any prisoner tried to escape, the guards on the higher floors would catch them. Besides, this particular prisoner was in no condition to escape.

He opened the cell door and stared down at the woman lying on the cot near the side. Her rounded cheek-bones were more prominent than ever from lack of food. Her once long and lustrous black curls were dank and streaked with gray. Her skin, which had been darkened from years in the southern countries when he captured her, was now sallow from seventeen years away from the sun. Her almond-shaped gray eyes that had once been so full of life stared at him dully. She had once been beautiful. It hadn't been dazzling or cold but rather pleasant and inviting. It had faded away into nothingness.

She smiled at him. Galbatorix didn't return the look.

"You have little reason to smile at me, Andizhan," he remarked.

"It is not you at whom I smile," she said softly. Her throat was too dry to raise her voice.

"Then why do you?" he asked.

"I finished getting rid of my gift two weeks ago. It took me seventeen years to do it so that you wouldn't know what I was doing, but it's paid off," she said. Her smile widened.

"You lie!" he shouted.

Andizhan shook her head. The smile still had not faded. "I'm too weak to keep up a lie. You know that. And wouldn't that account for something? When you first saw me make my greatest mistake one hundred and fifty years ago, I didn't look a day older than twenty five. When you glimpsed me before the fall of the riders and sent you Foresworn to capture me, I didn't look a day old than twenty five. When they lost my trail and I finally arrived in a country far south, I still didn't look a day older than twenty five. Seventeen years ago, when you captured me, I still didn't look a day older than twenty five. Now, I must look at least fifty. But it's nothing compared to how old I feel. Every one of my two hundred years weighs on me. I'm dying. I'm dying, and I'll have given you nothing," she whispered.

"You will give me something," Galbatorix retorted. "You will tell to whom you gave your gift."

"No, I will not," she whispered.

"Then I will force it from you," Galbatorix roared. He strode over to her and was about to put his hand on her head when she spoke again.

"You'll kill me if you do that," Andizhan protested quietly. "I'll put up feeble barriers that will drain my strength, and you'll break through them and kill me. Maybe you'll get the name, and maybe you won't. You won't know where to look. You don't know anything about what I did those years I was gone. Your magicians have failed to access that part of me. All you ever looked for was that one little word. Now, when those years could do you good, I am too weak to endure a probing from you. Ironic, isn't it? You really are too powerful for your own."

Galbatorix slapped her. He felt her bones rattle from the blow's force. Those were the words he had heard one of the elders speak about him. He had killed that elder, and he was so close to killing Andizhan.

"You can give me one thing before you die," he said at last, regaining his calm.

"Who say I want to do anything for you?" Andizhan asked. "I had two things to live for. One of them died last year. Now the other thing I had to live for has become the thing I will die for."

"Tell me what exactly your gift entails. Speak to me of that which you cannot give. Would that make you happy, Andizhan of the Greyfolk?" he asked.

"The one who has my gift will begin to feel it stir within very soon. She will not know of that one thing which you desire for many years, and only I will know when she knows. But I will be dead before she knows," Andizhan whispered.

"Tell me of the gift," he repeated.

"There are three things it gives: immortality, a complete and thorough knowledge of the Ancient and Language, and a decent amount of magic. Of course, that magic would never amount to that of the riders if it weren't for that one little word," Andizhan explained.

"What is the word?" he asked, unintentionally entranced.

"But you cannot say that word. You heard saw me whisper it when you first saw me. You knew what I whispered. You knew what I meant. But you could not say it the way I said it. Your mind cannot grasp it, neither can your lips pronounce it," she continued.

"What is it?" he demanded.

"Once I knew it well. Once it was part of me. I used it once, and that was all I could ever use it, for its power was too great for me to wield again. Do you know how much I regret that? I used it the only time I could to stop a shade and a pirate fleet. If I had waited and let the riders do what they would with it, I could have stopped the fall," Andizhan continued further.

"What is it?" he shouted, pulling her up and shaking her like a rag doll.

"Weren't you listening? I can't remember. For seventeen years, I've been unable to say it quite right or remember it exactly. Now, I can't even tell you its first letter," she answered.

Galbatorix let go of her and drew in his breath.

"Poor Galbatorix," she whispered mockingly. "You want it so badly, but you cannot get it."

He punched her in the face. She collapsed back onto her cot.

"Mock me again, and your life is forfeit," he threatened.

"Do to me what you will," she rasped. "I've been wishing I was dead for a long time now."

He was about to risk his chances of ever knowing what he wish to know and drive into Andizhan's mind when a knock resounded on the cell door. He turned and saw a small, skinny, and pale blond girl standing there. She curtsied quickly before saying, "Your majesty, the Lord Murtagh has returned. He says he brings good tidings."

Galbatorix withdrew his hand and said, "The healers will fix you. You'll be able to stand my probing."

"Losing my gift has given me an aversion to healing," Andizhan said. She almost laughed.

Galbatorix smiled back at her. She was hoping falsely. He'd breach her mind yet.

Yes, Hathcyn is the next rider, and yes, I added a new dimension to my plot. Does anyone have any guesses about who Andizhan is or what the one little word is? Just wondering. Also, does anyone have any ideas for names for Hathcyn's dragon? Here are the review responses. Oh, and Merry Christmas.

Daydreamin' Angel: Well, Murtagh and Nasuada didn't actually proclaim their love for each other, but they were both in love. I like your idea about Eragon though. That would be a good idea. I'm glad you like Hathcyn. I like him too. Yes, he is the next rider. Any name ideas for the dragon?

Ebz: That name actually came from Beowulf, an epic poem we read last year in English. I'll bet you liked this chapter because there was no romance in it.

Rock Not War: I hope he still seems interesting. I'll probably put more in about his background later.

Fredsonetrueluv: Like I said, I got the name Hathcyn from Beowulf. I hope you like him as a character. I'm glad you liked that last chapter, and I hope you like this one.

Siwenliu: Thanks. Hathcyn is pretty strong; it'll become apparent later exactly how strong he is. And he's not working for the king. Yet.

Embry: Thanks. I hope you liked this chapter.

Inyellel: Congrats. I still have to take my midterm. Anyway, I'm glad you liked this chapter. You put fan fiction on the site by going to document manager. When you get on that, go down to the bottom of the page where it says browse. Open that, find you document, and click on it. That should enter in the file for file on computer. Then name it, and click enter. I hope that was helpful. I'm not the world's best teacher.


	7. Is She Still?

Is She Still?

_I've been waiting for you_

_For this to come true  
All of the sudden it ends  
I woke up again_

_-Waking Up, by Rachel Hart_

Disclaimer: Don't own. Don't sue. Thank you.

Nasuada awoke panting. She put her hands on her forehead and tried to remember her dream. It came flooding back to her. Galbatorix. He'd been there. So had a woman. It had been so real and so vivid. A part of her wanted her to believe it was real and another part couldn't bare the thought.

That woman, Andizhan. Nasuada knew her face. She saw it every time she looked in a mirror. There were only subtle differences. The woman's face had been thinner as though she hadn't eaten properly in a long time. The eyes had been the wrong color too. Nasauda's eyes were dark brown, and Andizhan's had been medium gray.

There was another thing about Andizhan that Nasuada knew. It was her name. Her father had spoken it once before. It had been the answer he had given her to a question that had burned within her for such a long time. She'd finally asked it when she was eleven.

_What was my mother's name?_

She had asked one other question: _What happened to her?_

Ajihad had said that she had vanished when they left the Southern countries to escape the plague that had killed most of their tribe.

_Why did it kill us?_ Nasuada had asked.

_Andizhan,_ Ajihad had answered for the second time that day.

Nasuada had asked him to explain further, but Ajihad had refused. That was perhaps the only time he had ever declined to answer a question of hers. It was certainly the only time she could remember.

She had spoken to Orrin as of last night, and he had been equally worried about Arya's capture. They were both dreading sending messages to the elfin queen, and Orrin had come up with more reasons for her to send the message than she had come up for him to send it.

She pulled out a piece of paper and a quill. She dipped it in the ink and slowly wrote the message to Islanzadí. After about an hour and many sheets of discarded paper, she had written a letter that satisfied her. She had explained the turn of events concerning Arya's capture, emphasized the fact that she had told Eragon and the others to leave her to fight the Ra'zac, mentioned the fact that she had in fact slain the creature, talked about how the elf had gotten information from Murtagh and most likely been captured by him, and spent the rest of the letter trying to convince the elf queen not to withdraw her support again. She could only hope that it would be successful.

She sealed the letter and summoned Farica. She explained the situation to her maid as she helped her into her gown.

Nasuada drew in her breath as Farica lased up her stays. The maid said, "Well, Milady, I don't think many people should know of what has happened. It would dampen the moral of the Varden. That wouldn't be a good thing, especially not now with the red rider's appearance."

Nasuada bit her lip so hard she drew blood and gasped in pain.

"Is something wrong, Milady?" the maid asked.

Nasuada shook her head. She hated hearing the words "red rider" nowadays. It presented a new dilemma to the Varden, and it reminded her that Murtagh was a traitor.

"You're right," she added to Farica. "The Varden can't know that one of our strongest allies was captured and that a new hope was snatched away. It will be too much for them. It's almost too much for me."

Farica nodded in understanding.

"These things aren't your fault. You could not have prevented them, and you're handling them so well," Farica told her.

Nasuada sighed. She wished she could believe her.

"I'll go see if Eragon's been fully healed yet," she said as she rose.

Farica nodded. "I'll send this to the elves," she added.

Nasuada thanked her and went down to the infirmary.

Eragon sat up as she walked in. Angela had done a fairly good job with his injuries. He was only bandaged in a few places, and all his bruises had been healed. Nasuada felt relieved. With Arya gone, they needed Eragon whole and healthy.

"How are you feeling?" she asked him.

Eragon shrugged. "As close to fine as possible," he answered.

"I wrote a letter to Islanzadí explaining what happened," she told him. "Farica is sending it right now." She paused. Should she ask him about Andizhan? She didn't know much about magic, and she felt more comfortable asking Eragon about it than any of Du Vrangr Gata.

"Eragon, is it possible to view somebody when you're asleep?" she asked tentatively.

"Do you mean like scrying?" he asked.

She nodded. Hrothgar had explained that much when he told her about the necklace Gannel was making for Eragon.

"I thought that I had scryed Arya in my sleep before I actually rescued her. It turned out that her spirit was simply searching for help from anything near Saphira. She'd carried her egg for so long that she could sense her presence even in her weakened state," Eragon explained. "Why do you ask?"

"I had a dream last night, and it sounded like your visions of Arya," she replied.

"Did you see Arya?" he asked eagerly.

"No," Nasuada said.

"Was it Murtagh?" he asked.

She shook her head.

"Who was it?" Eragon asked.

"I think it was my mother. My father had a picture of her, and the woman looked like her, only years older. She had the same name as my mother too: Andizhan," Nasuada told him.

"What happened to your mother?" he asked.

"My father said that she disappeared when we left the Southern countries. My father was chief of one of the tribes, but plague struck and wiped out everyone except for my family. My father always said that it was because of my mother that we didn't die, so I assume she must have had some magic," Nasuada explained.

"But enough to reach you in Surda?" he asked.

"I don't know. She…she was with Galbatorix in my vision. They were talking. He had her imprisoned. She said she'd been locked up like that for seventeen years. He wanted to know something that she knew. It was a word of great power. She said she used it to stop a shade and a pirate fleet fifty years before the fall. She said she wished she'd saved it to stop Galbatorix during the fall. I don't know what the word is though. She said she doesn't anymore either. She said she'd been passing her gift to another for the past seventeen years and she'd finally gotten rid of it all. Galbatorix was angry at her for this. He also called her 'Andizhan of the Grey Folk.' Do you know who they are?" Nasuada recounted.

A look of shock passed over Eragon's face. "Are you sure he said Grey Folk?" he asked.

Nasuada thought for a moment. Yes, that had been what he'd said. She nodded.

"They created the Ancient Language, and it weakened their race. My teacher told me that they faded and took mates among the younger races," Eragon explained.

"She explained what the gift was. Apparently, it gave immortality, a complete knowledge of the Ancient Language, and a good bit of magic. She said it couldn't equal that of the riders though. She said the only thing that they had that was truly powerful was this one word," Nasuada told him.

"I don't know what the word could be," Eragon said. "It sounds real though. Let me try to scry her. Show me your vision of her in your mind."

Nasuada closed her eyes and felt Eragon's probe touch her conscience. She focused on the vision of Andizhan. Eragon memorized it.

"Could you pass me the water bowl?" he asked.

Nasuada nodded and handed him the bowl.

The young rider stared into it and muttered, "Draumr kópa." A vision of Andizhan appeared. It was exactly as Nasuada had seen her in the dream, only now she was alone.

The woman trembled on the cot. She half sat up to take a drink of water and then collapsed again. She stared into the distance, directly into Eragon's eyes it seemed, and then fainted.

Eragon let the image go.

"She's real," he breathed.

Nasuada nodded, scared. Her mother was dying. She'd lost her once, but now she knew that she wasn't dead, and there didn't seem to be a way to save her.

"I'll help you get Arya back," she promised Eragon. "We can rescue my mother with her as well."

Eragon nodded. "We just need a plan," he sighed.

Galbatorix entered the throne room. He saw Murtagh kneeling before him. Another man was kneeling beside him, even if he seemed a bit grudging to be bowing down to anyone. He looked up and saw a tall female elf standing. The spelled handcuffs gleamed on her wrists.

Galbatorix smiled. Those had been a good invention of his. Even if she managed to get the handcuffs off, she still would not be able to use magic. Every single spell on them had to be unlocked for her to regain all her abilities. They were more complex then simple drugs, but you never had to reapply them, and they were almost impossible to overcome.

"It is good to see you again, Arya," he said to the elf. "You survived Gil'ead. Let us see if you can survive Urû'baen. Of course, I should remember my manners. Will you tell me where the elves are?"

Arya spat at his feet.

"I thought not," Galbatorix said. Then he continued in a bored voice, "Malthinae."

Arya's hands snapped to her sides. She couldn't move.

"Guards, take her down to the dungeons. The second lowest should do. Make sure there's a guard. This one is still in condition to escape," he ordered. "Torture her, beat her, I don't care. Just find out what you can about Ellesméra and that accursed forest. I doubt you can breach her mind, but I shouldn't have any trouble. Besides, don't traitors deserve to suffer? That reminds me, turn her over to Morgana. She'll make her suffer."

The guards dragged the magically bound Arya from the throne room. Galbatorix smiled. He knew she was trying to struggle and bitterly resenting the fact that she could not.

He turned to Murtagh.

"Who is this you have brought me?" he asked.

"The newest rider," Murtagh replied.

"Really?" Galbatorix said, raising his eyebrows. He motioned for the other man to rise, and he did quite happily.

"Show me your hand," he ordered quietly. This one wanted power, and Galbatorix had to make sure this new rider knew he could get that from Galbatorix alone.

The man raised his hand. The gedwëy ignasia shimmered on it.

"Now, where is your dragon?" Galbatorix asked quietly.

"He said put him with Thorn," the rider explained, pointing to Murtagh.

"Go get him," he told Murtagh.

The red rider looked angry at being turned into a delivery boy, but Galbatorix had to keep this new rider happy. A willing servant would be so much better than a forced one like Murtagh. Forced servants looked for loopholes and catches and everything. A willing one did as he was told.

"What is your dragon's name?" Galbatorix asked.

"I haven't named him yet. I'm waiting until he can talk," the rider shrugged.

"What is your name?" he asked.

"Hathcyn," the rider replied.

Galbatorix nodded and then paused. His eyes had found Hathcyn's slightly pointed ears.

"Are you of elfin descent?" he asked.

"My father was one, yes," Hathcyn answered.

Galbatorix smiled. He had been able to do so much with Murtagh. He could only imagine what he could do with a half elf. This rider had the potential to be unbelievably powerful.

"Name your dragon soon. It's best if you do that," Galbatorix advised.

"Of course," Hathcyn said. "Now, are you going to try to make me join you?"

"I won't force you. I would rather you made that choice of your own free will," the king replied.

"And why would I do that? It was your shade who had my father killed," Hathcyn said. Galbatorix knew he was only trying to bargain and to hear more.

"Durza was hard to control, but he was necessary to keep the peace," Galbatorix said. He managed to sound a little sad. "Besides, your father was a rebel. You're not interested in rebellion, are you Hathcyn? You seem to desire power more than anything else. Well, I can give you power. You saw me bind an elf. I got a shade to serve me. I conquered the riders of old. My rider defeated the Varden's rider, who had a year more of training. Imagine what I can do for you. I know you already have magic. I see a strong wall around your mind. I could break through it if I wished, but I will not. You will be more powerful than you ever dreamed you could be. Think about it," Galbatorix said. He made his voice as hypnotic as possible.

"Rebellion is foolish, and the rebels are weak," Hathcyn said in the Ancient Language. "I would rather serve that king of power."

"But will you?" the king asked. The half elf was clever. He was avoiding actually swearing loyalty.

"I will," he said.

"Do you?" Galbatorix continued.

Hathcyn paused before saying, "I do."

"Very good," Galbatorix said with a smile.

Murtagh walked into the throne room and bowed again. He was carrying a small green dragon. It crawled towards Hathcyn, who reached out and stroke its head.

"So it likes this, but it doesn't like being patted," Hathcyn muttered as though he were taking notes.

"What will you name it?" Galbatorix asked.

"Eofor," Hathcyn said after a pause. "That was the name of my mother's brother."

"A good name," Galbatorix agreed.

Murtagh wondered if he was saying it was a better name than Thorn.

_My name is fine,_ the red dragon said. _It fits. A thorn can make even a rose dangerous. It is a fitting name for a dragon. _

_I'm glad you think so,_ Murtagh told him. _I just hope you weren't saying I was a rose._

_I wasn't,_ Thorn said. Murtagh could tell his dragon was grinning. At least there was some light in the darkness.

Wow. I haven't been romantic for three chapters. I'll try to put some in for next chapter. Hey, can I have at least seven reviews for this long chapter? I only got six for the last one. I know that's a lot. It's just not a lot by your standards.

Mean titan: I'm glad you like, and I'm glad you like Murtagh/Arya. That's a very under-represented pairing.

Rock Not War: Thanks. I considered naming the dragon Uaithne, but I decided Eofor fit more.

Ebz: No romance this chapter either. No, Hathcyn is not Murtagh and Arya's son from the future, but that was a cool theory. The dragon names were good. I just liked Eofor better. Selena was a good guess for Andizhan, but that's not who she is. She had a shadow of the Grey Folk's power, and she was a remnant of their race.

Fredsonetrueluv: I explained Andizhan in this chapter. I might make her Galbatorix's old lover. He imprisoned her to find out the word though. You'll see what the one word is in later chapters. That'll probably come up near the end. Thanks for the name Eofor. That was Beowulf's dad, right? I remember Hathcyn was Higlac's older brother and that he was killed in battle by the Swedish king Ongentho or something like that. Beowulf was so much fun to read. We had the awesomest reading teacher, and she let us pantomime the battle scenes while she narrated. It was hilarious. My friend got to be Grendel's mommy, and it was funny.

Daydreamin' Angel: Daja is a good name, but it's a girl's name. Do you like Tamora Pierce's books? I love her books. Those are the only books with the names Daja and Briar that I can think of. I'm glad you like Andizhan. Galbatorix probably won't find out what he wants to know. I know she's old, but she looked young for years. Yes, she was Nasuada's mother, and you're the only one who guessed that, even if you took it back. Oh well. I hope you liked this chapter.

Jezza: I have noticed Paolini's lack of female characters. There are a few others besides the three you mentioned, like Angela and Trianna. I don't think the women from Carvahall really count as characters. I guess Katrina does too. You were right about the gift going to Nasuada. As for your guess for the word, it's not right, but it's probably the closest anyone got to the right answer. Merry Christmas to you too, even though it's passed.


	8. She Doesn't Sleep

She Doesn't Sleep

Disclaimer: I won nothing besides Hathcyn, Eofor, and Morgana.

_Sleep, sleep, my little one!  
Sleep while you can  
Sleep to forget  
Refuse the moment of regret  
Sleep to dream beyond wonder  
Forget your moment of blunder_

_-Found it on the internet_

The guards threw Arya onto the ground. One of them went to shut the door when a woman's voice cut them off.

She said, "Don't lock her up. It's unnecessary. Bring her to the torture chambers."

Arya looked up. A young woman with auburn hair and black eyes stood there. She didn't even look at the elf lying at her feet. She was looking at her nails instead. They were painted red. The color reminded Arya of blood even more than Thorn's scales had. This must be the Morgana Galbatorix had mentioned. Arya felt almost instant dislike towards her.

Two guards grabbed Arya and dragged her along as they followed the Morgana. When they reached an iron door, the woman pulled out a ring of keys, selected the proper one, and unlocked the door.

One of the guards opened it for her, and she stepped through. The other two dragged Arya behind them and threw her onto a metal bed. She gasped in pain.

"Shame," Morgana said. "I had heard elves were supposed to be strong. That just goes to show you how people will believe anything nowadays. How did you ever survive Durza?"

"Will, determination, and loyalty to my people," Arya replied.

Morgana slapped her with surprising strength.

"Don't speak except to answer the questions I ask you during torture," the woman ordered.

"Let's start off easy, shall we?" Morgana suggested. Something in her tone suggested that Morgana's methods of torture were not going to be easy. The woman moved out of Arya's plain of view for a moment. She passed through it again, carrying a lethal looking whip. The tails on the end were metal spikes.

"Ten lashes with that," Morgana ordered a burly man who had just passed within Arya's range of vision. The elf bit her lip so hard that she drew blood to keep from screaming.

"Tell me which elfin city is closest to the border of Du Weldenvarden and where it is," Morgana demanded.

"Osilon. Good luck finding it before they kill you," Arya said.

Morgana pursed her heavily rouged lips. "Take away five lashes for answering part of the question, and add another five for insolence," the young woman ordered.

The torturer obeyed. Maybe it was Arya's imagination, but the blows seemed to be growing worse.

Every ten lashes, Morgana would hold up her hand for the torturer to stop and ask another question. Every time Arya would refuse to answer it, and the beating would begin again.

Morgana must have thought she was weakening, for Arya suddenly felt the woman's probe enter her mind. It was harsh and powerful, but it could not break through Arya's barriers.

The elf responded by plunging that icy dagger into Morgana's mind. The woman gasped and staggered backwards a few paces before grabbing hold of the table to steady herself. Morgana was now the one defending her mind. Arya broke through her barriers and saw a woman holding up a little girl. The woman was standing in a courtyard, and she was looking up at a man standing over a balcony. The man was Galbatorix.

"Would you execute the mother of this child?" she asked Galbatorix. The king turned away, and guards pulled the child from the woman's grasp and dragged her away. The child kicked and screamed, trying to get away from the guard that held her, but the man was too strong. The memory faded as the man's hand hit the child's neck and caused her to black out.

Morgana's hand curled into a fist, and she punched Arya in the jaw. Once again, the elf was surprised by the blow's force, but she refused to withdraw her probe from Morgana's mind.

The memories were jumbled now. The girl grew older. She was fourteen and being pressed again the wall by a young boy with dark hair. They were both kissing fiercely.

The girl was being scolded for promiscuity by Galbatorix. She took it all with a blank stare and failed to amend her ways. Galbatorix decided to ignore it rather than admonish her.

Morgana took the whip and struck her thrice. Arya withdrew her probe.

The woman steadied herself and said in a deceptively calm voice, "We're done for the day. It's past nightfall. Don't let her sleep. If she does, give her five lashes to wake her up. If that knocks her out, use vinegar. That'll wake her up and keep her up. By the way, she might sleep with her eyes open. Wave your hand in front of her face every couple minutes to see if she reacts." With that, Morgana left the torture chamber.

Hathcyn lay down on the bed in one of the rooms of the Foresworn's chambers. That other rider—Murtagh, was it?—was in a room near this one. He glanced down at his dragon and stroked its head. Eofor made a humming noise. Hathcyn had decided that it meant he was happy. He heard a name speaking in his head suddenly.

_Hathcyn,_ it said.

_That's me,_ he told it cautiously. The elf girl had said that dragons could hear their riders thoughts and communicate with them and vice versa.

_Eofor?_ the little green dragon asked.

_That's you,_ he explained.

_Good,_ it said.

_So I can name thing well,_ he thought.

_Good,_ the dragon repeated. It leapt out of his arms and ran into a corner. Hathcyn heard a loud snap and saw the dragon turn around, a rat tail hanging out of its mouth.

"You'd think they'd keep rats out of a place like this," he muttered to himself. He looked at the dragon questioningly. "Wait, were you trying to say 'food?'" he asked.

Eofor's eyes traveled to the rat tail.

_Food?_ he asked.

_Yes, food. It was a rat, but since you've eaten it, now I guess it's food,_ Hathcyn answered.

_Good?_ Eofor asked.

Hathcyn wondered how to explain the word "good" to the dragon. _If you like it, it's good. If you don't, it's bad. _

An image of Galbatorix suddenly flashed across Hathcyn's mind.

_Bad,_ Eofor said.

_Not for us,_ Hathcyn protested.

_Bad,_ Eofor repeated.

_We'll have to wait and see,_ Hathcyn told his dragon. It gave him what seemed like a shrug and swallowed the rat's tail.

Hathcyn noticed a bowl of fruit lying on a table. He grabbed two apples, tossed one to Eofor, and ate the other one himself.

The dragon ate his apple and asked_, Not good, not bad?_

_Okay,_ Hathcyn told him.

An image of an apple flashed through his mind.

_Okay,_ Eofor told him.

Hathcyn pointed at his apple and said, _Apple._

_Apple okay,_ Eofor repeated.

He then sent the dragon a picture of Galbatorix and told him the king's name.

_Galbatorix bad,_ Eofor said.

_Just don't tell him that,_ Hathcyn warned. He didn't want the little dragon to get them in trouble just by being honest about its opinions. He'd gotten himself in trouble for that before, and he didn't want the little creature to do the same. It was funny, caring about something you'd just met. Or someone, rather, he thought, looking at Eofor. The dragon wasn't a thing. It was a one.

The dragon sent Hathcyn an image of them both lying curled up on the bed.

_Sleep,_ he told it. The dragon nodded eagerly and curled up in his arms. Then they both did just as Eofor had suggested and slept. Hathcyn dreamed of his mother's face as she died of the plague, of the elf girl who had been with Murtagh being beaten because she had fallen asleep, and of Murtagh sitting on his own bed with his face in his hands because he had caused the elf's suffering.

That's the end of chapter seven. I hope you liked it. I put in the cuteness with Eofor (at least I hope it was cute) because I wanted to lighten the mood after all the angst of Arya being tortured. I also decided to make Eofor dislike the king because Hathcyn was pretty much willing to serve him. I also realized that there wasn't much in the way of romance in this chapter. I will allude to it next chapter at least. Here are the review responses. I got seven. Yay! Let's make that the minimum.

Rock Not War: I hope you liked this chapter. Thanks.

Lightmare852: That's a good guess. I won't tell you if it's right or wrong. Andizhan knows the word she knows because she's one of the Grey Folk and they made the Ancient Language.

Fredsonetrueluv: It was a good name, I thought. I'm glad you liked last chapter and hope you liked this one. I'm glad Andizhan's true identity surprised you. Acting out scenes from Beowulf was so much fun. I think it's kinda funny that Angelina Jolie is voicing Grendel's mom because she was voted most beautiful woman in the world and Grendel's mom is supposed to be ugly, but I have an odd sense of humor. So the guy who plays Galbatorix is Unferth? That's interesting. Does he ever play a nice guy? I mean, Unferth mocks Beowulf and all. At least he apologized by giving Beowulf that one sword. Hrunting, I think?

Mean titan: Thanks. I try to keep everyone in character and develop my own characters.

Embry: I'm glad you thought it was cute. I hope you thought the scene between Hathcyn and Eofor was just as cute.

TheSummoningDark: I'm glad you like it. I think Hathcyn's one of those characters you either love because you think he's funny or hate because he annoys the crap out of you.

Vixen Hood: I'm glad you like, hope you still do, and hope this update came soon enough. I decided to make Hathcyn less altruistic than some, but I also decided to make Eofor dislike Galbatorix to create conflict and balance it a bit more.


	9. Sharing Pain

Sharing Pain

_True, suffering has reality in it._

_Who denies it?_

_But the transcendence of suffering_

_Also has reality in it._

_Who can disbelieve it?_

_-Suffering by Sri Chinmoy _

Disclaimer: I don't own anything except Hathcyn, Eofor, and Morgana.

Arya sat in her cell, trying to keep herself from falling into sleep. She was so tired she could barely stay awake, but she wasn't tired enough to be immune to the pain. As she lay on the metal bed in agony, her thoughts turned to Murtagh. As soon as that occurred, her hands instinctively clutched the edge of the bed. She couldn't shake thoughts of him from her head. He'd helped her and brought her to pain. She hated him, and yet she didn't. Maybe it was pity that she felt for him. He didn't want this fate. Some instinct told her that. If her other instincts told her she felt more than pity, well, what did it matter?

Her mind reached out for his mind. He would see this. He needed to know what he'd done to her, even if he hadn't wanted to do it. That didn't excuse him in her mind.

Murtagh was enjoying a dreamless sleep when a vision flashed through his mind. Arya was lying facedown on a table. She bit her lips to keep from crying out as a man swung a whip down upon her back.

He woke up, banishing the elf from his conscious. He heard a knock on his door and pulled himself out of bed to answer the door. Morgana stood there. She walked into the room without asking his permission.

"The elf isn't as strong as she's been built up to be," she remarked.

Murtagh knew she was just deluding herself. Morgana hated being inferior to anybody.

"You're just jealous because she's lovelier than you," he muttered. He knew it was true.

Morgana's face took on a strange expression. It looked as though he'd just confirmed some suspicions of hers.

"You know me," she murmured. "And you don't like me very much.."

Murtagh stared at her. "Many know you."

"I meant my nature," she corrected. She didn't look at him. She instead picked up Zar'roc and drew it.

"Put it away," Murtagh ordered. Morgana placed it back in its sheath. "What did you mean by I know you're nature?" he asked.

"Once you would have been impressed that I could draw that without breaking my arm or dropping it," Morgana remarked.

"Women among the Varden can fight," he stated simply.

"Which women?" she asked wickedly. "The leader? The elves that help them? That witch Angela?" She laughed raucously at the last part.

Murtagh ignored her. "What are you playing at?" he asked.

"With whom are you playing?" she asked.

"Not you, obviously," he replied.

She laughed, but a glare formed in her eyes. "And why is that?" she teased. She put her arms around his neck playfully. He didn't respond. She let go. She'd always teased him when they were younger like this. Playing with him. Seeing if he did want her. He had then, and she'd known it. She was the kind of woman who always knew what men thought. Ironically, the thing she didn't understand was women. To her, they were lesser beings and only certain ones truly had merit. They were unworthy rivals of herself, and that was all she needed to know. She was seductive, hateful, passionate, cautious, and thoroughly contradictory in nature.

"You were right," he continued. "I don't like you."

"And neither do I," she told him.  
"Why not?" he asked. His tone was just as mocking as it was cruel.

"You don't like me. Why should I like you?" she said. She idly picked up his bow and examined.

"Put it down, Morgana," he sighed. She was here for a reason, and he knew she was waiting for the opportune moment to do what she wanted or had been ordered to do.

She set the bow and walked around the room.

He caught her on the wrist to keep her from touching anything else.

"Tell me why you're here or leave," he demanded.

"Fine then," Morgana conceded. Murtagh let go of her wrist, and she drew a long metal rod out of the sheath hanging by her side. "What was it you said about me being jealous of the elf's beauty? I'll be interested if any are jealous of her beauty or anything else after my father, the other mages, and I are done with her," she murmured, her hand running the length of the rod. It indented at seemingly random angles, and both ends were filed as sharp as Thorn's teeth. It was covered in miniscule spikes.

"What is that?" he asked her. He'd never seen anything like it. That didn't necessarily mean it was good. In fact, considering Morgana had it, it was probably the exact opposite.

Morgana focused her black eyes on him. He grabbed her free hand by the wrist and repeated his question. The young woman simply smirked.

"Well, since you asked so nicely," she began sarcastically as she pulled his tunic up to bare his stomach, "I suppose I'll have to show you." Murtagh tried to move away, but Morgana plunged the thing through his navel. He gasped in pain and tried to push her away, but the agony was too great.

"So it does work," another voice said. This one was a male's. Murtagh recognized it. He dropped his head. He couldn't stop Morgana's torture now.

"Yes, your majesty, I dare say it does," Morgana said. "Briswir," she added. The rod heated up. Murtagh fought the urge to groan or scream. His very insides felt as though they were on fire. That probably wasn't too far from the truth.

"Will it kill him?" Galbatorix asked. His voice only contained a hint of concern for losing Murtagh's power.

"No," Morgana said. "It's designed to bypass any internal organs. It can prick them just enough to cause pain of course. Being impaled hurts as well, I suppose."

"Clever. Very clever," the king continued.

"Why?" Murtagh managed to gasp. He thought he knew the answer, but Galbatorix hadn't reprimanded him at all yesterday, and he'd thought the capture of Arya and the discovery of Hathcyn would perhaps spare him more pain.

"You disobeyed my orders," Galbatorix said silkily. "You may have brought back the elf and a new rider, but you failed to capture the one I wanted. You could have. I saw how you went to Helgrind and kept yourself from seeing him. Very clever. Or very foolish. It's all a matter of point-of-view. In my point of view, it was foolish. In yours, it may have seemed clever. I don't know. I could find out, but I don't believe it really matters. Besides, you only captured the elf because you temporarily _lost the egg_ due to your own—what was it your dragon said?—'damn lust for some rotting elf bitch?' And Hathcyn was really a matter of luck, not cleverness. Oh no, you're a fool. Not as great a fool as Eragon, but close. Very close. Too close for comfort I think."

Murtagh barely heard him. Such was his agony. Morgana had heated the rod even more during Galbatorix's discourse, and she'd made it poke him. He'd survive. She wouldn't puncture anything. It still hurt. At last, she withdrew the rod.

"By your leave, your majesty?" she asked with a curtsy.

"Go, child," he ordered. Morgana nodded and left.

Galbatorix watched as Murtagh lay on the floor.

"Get yourself back to bed, and report to training tomorrow. I want to test the half-breed's skills. Or rather, I want _you_ to test them," Galbatorix snapped. Murtagh groaned. He didn't see how he'd be able to do that.

_I'll help you,_ Thorn comforted. Murtagh felt the dragon bringing his consciousness away from his body. They both winced at the pain.

_Send me back,_ he told Thorn. _It doesn't work. _

_I'm sorry,_ Thorn told him.

_It's my fault. You're the only one who did anything right while we were in Dras Leona,_ Murtagh told the dragon.

"Touching," Galbatorix said sarcastically, forcing him to end his conversation with Thorn. "You will come tomorrow by the way. It will be even worse for you if you don't," Galbatorix added as he exited.

Arya felt another vision coming back to her. Murtagh was in agony from a metal rod that pierced his stomach. She gasped. She didn't know if it was his pain or the pain from the final lash she felt. Perhaps it was both.

"Oh, Murtagh," she whispered. The tortured didn't pay attention. He seemed annoyed about being made to stay awake all night.

She saw Galbatorix standing over him and telling him he had to train tomorrow.

She felt some strange hint of pity for the rider. It was replaced by apprehension. She knew Morgana would use that rod on her tomorrow. She mentally braced herself for it.

"Be strong with me, Murtagh," she murmured. She didn't know why she'd said that. It didn't matter, she decided, as she moved slightly, hoping to find a more comfortable spot on the table. There was no comfortable spot.

She heard something echo in her head.

_Strength? We need more than that, vanyali,_ a voice told her.

"Cynicism," she muttered. He was right. "Optimism. We need it," she mumbled. She was right too. Somewhere in her mind she could feel that he was right.

Eragon stood over a scrying bowl. He focused on an image of Arya and muttered, "Draumr kópa." He knew she'd had wards put around her, but he suspected they may have deteriorated after her capture. He was right.

He saw Arya gasp in pain as the whip struck her back. He heard a disembodied man put down a whip.

He heard her mutter a few things. He'd only heard one thing she'd said. It had been the name Murtagh. Why that name? Why Murtagh's? What emotions had she felt with it? He'd heard a little anger, or so he thought. There had been other emotions in it too. Had he heard a little pity in her voice? He felt his strength waning and let the image go. Arya was suffering. He had to get her back. Murtagh would pay for bringing her to this torture.

Okay. I know not too much happened in that chapter. You'll find out why Arya and Murtagh were able to communicate like that later. I know it was odd because they can both defend their minds, but there's a reason for it. That's all I'm saying. Eragon will eventually find out what they did, but it'll kinda have to be shoved in his face. I'm probably going to begin Hathcyn's training in the next chapter. I don't see why I wouldn't, but plot bunnies are strange things. Wow. Ten reviews this chapter. Thanks for that. Here are the responses to them.

Opal Eyes33: Thanks. I hope you still like the story after this.

Inyellel: Oh, it's fine. Thanks for the idea of having Eragon scry her. I used it. It was really good.

Famous4it: Thanks. I'm glad you like the plot.

Embry: Well, you'll see. I'm glad you liked Eofor.

Roguelane: I sort of got into Murtagh/Arya. I think it's an interesting, workable pairing. It's better than Eragon/Arya, you must admit. I can't stand Eragon either. You really can't do fluff with Murtagh and Arya. They're too angsty. I hope you liked what I did with them this chapter. Oh, and Desperation and Silence is Golden are the only other two Murtagh/Arya fics I've found. They're both quite good.

TheSummoningDark: I'm glad you like Eofor. He'll be in the next chapter. I hate Morgana too. I'm not sure how she dies yet, but I'm sure I'll think of something. And about Beowulf? Shut up. LOL. JK.

Rock Not War: I'm glad you like Eofor. Yeah, not being able to sleep would be torture. Of course, having something stuck through your stomach would hurt too. Glad you like it.

Sheenz+Raul: I like Nasuada too. I'm giving her a pretty big role in this, actually. I hope Murtagh and Nasuada get together in the next book too. I know it sounds hypocritical, since I'm writing Murtagh/Arya, but I wanted to do something different, and I've written two Murtagh/Nasuada one-shots. I agree with you about the screwed up movie. I'm glad you like it.

Mean titan: No, Arya doesn't like torture. I did put in some romance and torture in this one. I hope this update came soon enough.

Vixen Hood: Thanks. Hope this update came soon enough.


	10. Testing Limits

Testing Limits

_Why now I see there's mettle in thee, and even from this instant do build on thee a better opinion than ever before._

_-Iago, from Othello by William Shakespeare_

Disclaimer: Don't own. Don't sue. Thank you.

Murtagh awoke reluctantly in the morning. He didn't know how he would survive his usual rigorous training, but he knew it would be all the worse if he didn't go.

He pulled himself out of bed, dressed, ate, and went down to the practice field.

_Pretend it's alright,_ Thorn told him.

_Since when have you ever been good at pretending?_ Murtagh shot back.

_I'm not the one who must pretend,_ Thorn retorted.

_You can't imagine pain away,_ Murtagh said.

_Then deal with it,_ Thorn told him.

_I didn't say I couldn't,_ Murtagh volleyed.

"Ah, Murtagh, you're finally here. Five minutes after you should have been actually," Galbatorix said as the young man reached the courtyard.

The king turned to Hathcyn and asked, "Can you use a sword?"

"A little," Hathcyn said. The half-elf was currently looking at the weapon Galbatorix had given him. He swung it recklessly and narrowly missed cutting off his own head. Murtagh assessed his abilities quietly. The newest rider seemed to have almost no technical skill, perhaps because of lack of training, but a great deal of strength and speed.

"Block it," Galbatorix ordered.

"Gëoluth du knífr?" Hathcyn asked Galbatorix. The blade blocked itself. "That answers my question."

Murtagh drew Zar'roc, blocked it, and settled into a crouch. Hathcyn mimicked his stance. They both stood there, waiting for the other to strike.

"Whathca gonna do, rider?" Hathcyn taunted. "What are you waiting for?"

"Stop holding yourself in contempt, rider," Murtagh spat back.

"At least I haven't betrayed those I called friends," Hathcyn retorted. "I saw what they're doing to the elf."

"If you have a problem with betraying friends, you'll have a problem with this whole thing," Murtagh muttered. "Then again, maybe you don't have any."

"I sincerely doubt you do," Hathcyn retorted.

"That's this job," Murtagh laughed.

"Fight already!" Galbatorix yelled.

Murtagh struck first. Hathcyn muffled a cry and blocked the blade haphazardly. If he hadn't been a half-elf, Murtagh would have disarmed him then.

Instead, Hathcyn struck back at him. The blow was wild and reckless, but it wasn't too far off, and the strength behind it was unnerving. Murtagh was undaunted however. He struck back. They continued for at least a half an hour this way, hitting, stabbing, and parrying, for Hathycn's footwork was actually not so bad. It was definitely better than his technical skill; though, Murtagh didn't know how that could be. Eofor, who was too young to begin training, was watching his rider and Thorn's spar with widened emerald eyes.

Finally, Murtagh pushed the half elf's blade away. He went to put Zar'roc against the man's throat, but before it touched it and before he could say, "Dead," Hathcyn kicked him in the chest. Murtagh fell and landed on his back. Hathcyn brought his sword down to place it against Murtagh's throat, but the young man parried the blow, making Hathycn move slightly to the side, and leapt up. When he twisted to place Zar'roc against the new rider's throat, he felt a terrible pain split across his back.

He didn't know how long he lay on the ground writhing in agony. All he could hear was Thorn's voice ranting in both rage at Hathcyn and concern for his rider, though he could only make out the feelings.

At last, the pain stopped. He lay panting on the ground. Hathcyn and Galbatorix both stared down at him. The former looked slightly apologetic, and the latter looked annoyed at his rider's weakness. Murtagh didn't care about either of them. All he cared was that Thorn had come from his training with Shruikan to help him.

_I thought you said you hadn't had one of those attacks in ten years, _the ruby dragon said.

_I haven't,_ he moaned. _It must have irritated my scar when Morgana put that thing through me last night. _

_I'll rip her to pieces,_ Thorn muttered.

_I'll join you in that,_ he agreed bitterly.

"What are you waiting for?" Galbatorix asked Hathcyn. "The fight is yours."

"That's not very sporting though, is it?" the half elf asked, sounding slightly perturbed.

"Since when does a thief care about those matters?" Galbatorix asked.

Hathycn shrugged. "That's different. I always thought swordplay had some kind of honor to it."

"If a man goes down, he's down," Galbatorix said. "Sound like honor?"

Murtagh had barely heard this conversation, and his back still hurt, so he couldn't stop Hathcyn from putting the point of his sword on his throat.

"Dead," the rider stated.

Murtagh's temper broke then, and adrenaline filled his veins and made him forget his discomfort. He pulled the sword away, causing Hathcyn to fall to the ground. He pulled Zar'roc out and attempted to place it on his neck. He was more careful of his back this time, so he didn't have another seizure, but Hathcyn was ready. They leapt up and began their fight again. It was far more violent this time. They fought with both fists and blades, tapping each other everywhere they could. Murtagh was sure that several of his finger were broken, but he was so desperate for victory and vengeance, he didn't notice. At one point, he knocked Hathcyn against the collarbone so hard, the bone almost broke. The half elf gasped in pain and retaliated by flicking his blade upward and jabbing Zar'roc aside. He then lunged for Murtagh's chest. The other man gasped in pain as it hit the sternum almost hard enough to break bone. His fist soared over Hathcyn's sword and knocked him in the side of the jaw. The newer rider stumbled, and Murtagh swung Zar'roc at his arm. The half elf went down on his side before the blade touched him and hooked his foot under Murtagh's ankles. The red rider caught himself, and only his hands were hurt. He leapt up again and turned to face Hathcyn, who had done the same thing. He charged with intent to injure maybe even kill.

"Letta," Galbatorix barked.

Both riders froze and stood glaring at each other.

"Well, it would appear as though you are proficient," he said to Hathcyn, "though you could use some work. You went berserk. That is rarely good." He turned to Murtagh. "You should not have been overcome like that. I'm glad that you didn't let him win, but this was a mock battle. It would have been better if you hadn't tried to kill him. I was planning on testing his proficiency in magic, but I think you should stay out of that. The courtyard might blow up, and we wouldn't want that. Go ask Deandra if she can do anything about that scar. I remember she fixed it last time it, and it stayed fixed for ten years. And don't you go thinking that it was Morgana's fault. My daughter may have gotten a little over-zealous, but you needed to pay the price for your insubordination. Now leave, and come back when you can." The king looked over at Hathcyn again and realized that the half elf was holding his collarbone and gasping in pain.

"I think it's actually broken," he wheezed.

"Yes, that can happen. Are you able to heal it?" Galbatorix continued.

"I can heal small broken bones and bruises and cuts, but not something like this," Hathcyn gasped.

"Go see the healer then. Deandra might be the most impertinent fool ever to walk this land, but she's a gifted healer," Galbatorix ordered.

Hathcyn nodded, picked up Eofor, and went after Murtagh, who was healing his broken fingers. He had at least three that he'd only been able to ignore because of sheer adrenaline and anger. Now, they hurt. He raised his hand to his sternum. It was badly bruised and slightly dented. A few short words later, it was fine. He felt his scar twinge and winced. He'd forgotten how to deal with it. That wasn't good. He needed to learn again.

Arya felt Morgana's attacks on her mind again as the metal rod plunged through her navel. She gasped out loud. Morgana seemed pleased that she had shown her pain.

_**Amy whirled out from under her tent and struck a Charlie's Angel pose. "okay," she muttered " Operation steal Ally's laptop and leave message for the readers. " Then, she pressed a button on a tape player and Mission Impossible rang through the room. :-) **_

_**I humbly apologize for my friend Amy's RUDE interruption. She can't help it, really. **_

**_Anyway, I thought we needed a little comic relief, so I left it in. My apologies, once again. _**

Arya fought back in anger the moment the rod was removed from her stomach. She saw a fifteen year old Morgana hiding in a bush vomiting up her breakfast. She saw a petite woman with strawberry-blond hair demanding to know what was wrong. Morgana looked at her, as though daring the woman to keep questioning her. To Arya's surprise, the woman didn't stop. At last, Morgana slapped her across the face and ran. The woman simply slapped her back and said, "I'll make your father find out what's wrong if you don't tell me. Think on it, Thaïs." Morgana slapped the woman again.

Arya felt Morgana's slap across her face, and she withdrew her probe.

"Didn't you learn your lesson the last time?" the elf asked spitefully.

Morgana shoved the rod back into her stomach without answering the question. Arya screamed again. The gasp that came out of her was louder this time and oh so close to a scream, but Morgana didn't seem to care, nor did she try to enter the elf's mind again. She seemed lost in thought. When one of the guards asked why she didn't question anymore, Morgana answered, "She can suffer even if she does not answer. Suffering will please his majesty for a time. She is not weak enough to give answers yet. We must wait."

Murtagh knocked on the door before entering the palace's infirmary.

"If you're well enough to knock, you've well enough to open the door," a female voice shouted from within. "Now come in here before whomever you're helping dies."

Murtagh and Hathcyn both entered the room. A petite strawberry-blond in her late thirties stood stirring a potion. A girl of about five with hair like fire sat on a bed beside her. The girl didn't look sick; she just looked bored.

"May I stir, Aunty?" she asked.

"Sure. I have to help these two anyway," she said. A look of surprise crossed her face as she saw who the two were.

"Murtagh?" she asked. "What do you need healing for? And who are you?"

"I had another seizure," Murtagh explained before adding unenthusiastically, "This is the newest rider, Hathcyn."

"He broke my collarbone," the latter said. The woman, presumably Deandra, went over to him, put her hand on the bone, and said, "It's just dented. You wouldn't be able to hold anything if it was actually broken. Still must hurt though." She closed her hazel eyes and muttered a long spell. Hathcyn felt immediately better.

"Why did you dent his collarbone, and how did you get another seizure? You haven't had one since you were ten," Deandra said to Murtagh.

"We were sparring, and I dented his collarbone," Murtagh explained to answer the first question.

"Got a little over-zealous, did we?" Deandra asked, making Murtagh sit down. He didn't respond. "Who won?"

"Well, technically I did," both riders said at the same time. They both began to argue over who had really won before Deandra yelled, "Shut up!"

Lilith put a hand over her little mouth to stifle a giggle. "Aunty cursed," she laughed.

Deandra rolled her eyes good-naturedly. "Just don't talk like me, you hear?" she asked.

"I won't," Lilith replied in a sing-song voice. She went back to stirring.

"Anyway, what did you two mean by 'technically?'" She asked.

"Galbatorix stopped us so that we didn't get hurt worse," Murtagh mumbled.

Hathcyn nodded in agreement.

Deandra's eyebrows nearly disappeared into her hair, but she didn't say anything.

"You never answered my question," was all she did say. "How did you set your back off?"

Murtagh leaned over and whispered, "Morgana put a rod through my stomach, and I think she hit me in the scar."

Deandra's face darkened, but she said nothing because of Lilith. The little girl hadn't even looked up from her potion.

"I'll speak with her," the healer said after a pause. "I raised her, and I helped my brother raised you. I might have not done anything for her, but she won't go torturing you even if you displease his majesty. She doesn't have the right. Speaking of which, how did you?"

Murtagh quietly explained everything, except for part about the inn, to Deandra. The woman nodded, but her eyes showed that she knew he'd left something out.

"Let me see the scar," she ordered. "You," she added to Hathcyn, "get."

Hathcyn left after giving Lilith a piece of candy he'd saved from his room. He'd always had a soft spot for children.

_That's a different woman,_ he remarked to Eofor after they were down the corridor from Eofor.

_Okay,_ the green dragon replied. _Fly like red dragon?_

_Soon,_ Hathcyn promised, though he didn't know how soon. He'd have to read up on dragon development.

Okay, I know not too much happened in that chapter. I'm not sure how important Lilith and Deandra will be. Lilith will most likely have a larger role. Yeah, Morgana is Galbatorix's daughter, but I don't think that shocked anyone because it was implied several time. If it did, I did better than I thought, I guess. Anyway, tell me how you liked it. P.S. The name Deandra called Morgana, Thaïs, belonged to the mistress of Alexander the Great and Ptolemy I of Egypt. She supposedly got Alexander to burn down some city on a whim. Anyway, here are the review responses.

Luna Serenade: Well, procrastinate. Don't put it off until later. Who's to argue with that? Anyway, I'm glad you like this story. I'm also glad I've avoided cheesiness. I definitely don't want cheesiness with this pairing.

Daydreamin' Angel: I see what you're saying about Morgana. She's known very little love, and she is pitiable in a way. She's also too horrible to be redeemed. She has to die. I think I've figured out how it will happen. I think it'll fit her character.

Fredsonetrueluv: Yeah. That pretty much sums it up.

Inyellel: Yeah, well I don't like them either, and I made one of my fic Eragon/Arya, so what's there to say? You're welcome, and thanks again for the idea. I think everyone thinks of writing a book once in a while. I'm flattered that you think I'd be good enough to write one.

TheSummoningDark: LOL. I'm mean like that. Anyway, I'm surprised I've managed to keep updating, but I haven't lost interest in this fic, and I'm still not quite sure what's going to happen, so new ideas keep coming, and that keeps me updating. I do have a basic idea though.

Famous 4it: Well, there will be more torture, and there will be more romance. I know exactly how that part of it will work out.

Rock Not War: Thanks. I hope this chapter was great.

Vixen Hodd: Thanks. I hope you thought this chapter was good.

Roguelane: I totally agree with you about Murtagh and Arya. That would be such a twist if CP put them together, but I doubt he'd do it. Evil Arya is an interesting idea. No, it's not wrong that you love Morgana. Opinions are opinions. What is it you like about her though? Just curious. Don't take it as an insult. I'm thinking that angsty yet happy ending will probably be how this fic ends. We'll see though.


	11. Think of Them

Think of Them

_If children live with hostility, they learn to fight. _

_-Dorothy Law Nolte _

Disclaimer: Don't own. Don't sue. Thank you.

Murtagh pulled off his tunic and lay down on one of the cots. Lilith looked up from the pot she'd been stirring briefly.

Deandra stood in front of Murtagh, blocking Lilith's view.

"I just hope she doesn't turn out like her mother," Deandra muttered.

_She has a crush on you,_ Thorn teased.

_Shut up. She's five,_ Murtagh replied, nodding to Deandra. He understood her sentiment. "She won't," the rider told the healer. "She's young, and you're raising her."

"I raised _her_ too," Deandra murmured.

"You and Tornac both raised me," Murtagh comforted. He stopped and wondered if that was a comfort.

_Stop putting yourself down. That's my job,_ Thorn told him.

_I'll try to remember that,_ Murtagh said dryly.

"You turned out better, I suppose," Deandra remarked. "It's not your fault you've been forced to serve him. You tried to leave him, and you failed. It's not your fault, and it's not my brother's fault."

Murtagh wondered for a moment if the healer blamed him for Tornac's death.

"I don't blame you," Deandra said crossly, as though she had guessed his train of thought. She always seemed to be able to do that even without reading his mind. Whenever he asked her why, she'd simply say, "I raised, you didn't I? May the gods damn me if you fool me, Murtagh Morzansson."

_It is frightening how she can do that,_ Thorn agreed. _But stop blaming yourself for everything. _

"My brother wanted to help you escape. You were like his son. He got killed, and you lived. I can't hate somebody for living," Deandra simply said. She ran her finger down his scar. When she got to the point that was parallel to his navel, Murtagh cried out in pain.

"It's been reopened there. Gods damn Morzan and Morgana both," she muttered. "I'll have to re-sew this somehow."

"Why do you sew skin?" Lilith asked.

_Now the mini is asking the question I was going to ask,_ Thorn said, sounding scared.

Murtagh chuckled briefly.

"It closes the wounds," Deandra explained, not looking up. She ignored Murtagh's laugh.

"And what were you saying about my momma?" the little girl continued to ask.

"That your mother turned out wrong," Deandra said casually.

"She is scary," Lilith agreed, titling her head to the right, "and she says my hair is a silly color. She doesn't like orange. She says it's just red toned down, and she likes red too much to tone it down, she says."

"I knew your mother when she was little," Murtagh comforted. "Her hair was the same color as yours, and now it's darkened."

"I like orange though," Lilith countered, shrugging her tiny shoulders.

"Then maybe it will stay, and maybe it won't," Deandra said. She moved away from Murtagh to check the potion Lilith had stopped stirring.

"It's done," she declared. "Lilith, would you be a dear and put it in a bottle like I showed you how to?"

"I wish Morgana more attention to her own child," Deandra muttered. "She above all people should know what happens when parents ignore their children." She took a needle and gently placed it against the skin on his back.

Murtagh screamed in pain. There was a sound of breaking glass, and Lilith ran back in just in time to see Murtagh writhing in pain. Deandra was yelling words in the Ancient Language to keep him from falling off the cot. Thorn pulled him into his own to shield him from the pain some. At last, he stopped and lay gasping.

"That's the second time today," he rasped. He didn't need these attacks to start again.

"I know, Murtagh," Deandra sighed. "Calm down. I'm going to have to close this again with magic, and you'll have to refrain from strenuous activity for a week."

"Galbatorix will not allow," the red rider said bitterly.  
"I will explain the situation to him," Deandra replied coolly. She muttered a few words. "Done," she said proudly.

"You cannot hope to sway him, Deandra," a female voice said. Murtagh saw Morgana enter the room, and he felt anger course through him. Lilith seemed uncertain as to whether she should hide from her mother or hug her.

"I can hope as I wish, Morgana," the healer retorted. "Besides, I doubt that the king will want his rider incapacitated anymore than he already is because of your incompetence."

"He called it cleverness actually," Morgana volleyed.

"So he's finally paid attention to you?" Murtagh asked, sitting up. Deandra shot him a warning glance that he ignored.

"Drop dead," Morgana hissed.

"Ladies first," Murtagh said with mock courtesy. "Oh, wait. Forgive me. I took you for a lady, not a demon who leaves pain and madness in her wake, who does not regret, and who conveniently forgets she gave birth to a daughter five years ago."

"And are you not the rider who betrayed his brother, his comrades in battle, and the woman he claimed to love for power?" Morgana shot back.

Deandra grabbed Lilith's wrist and pulled the child from the room, murmuring words of comfort to her.

"I betrayed them because the man who spawned you took complete and utter control of me and forced me to serve him," Murtagh shouted. He had lost his cool.

"He forces all to serve him," Morgana whispered. "We do his bidding because we must, because he is the most powerful. Don't wallow in self pity."

"Yet you serve him willingly," Murtagh retorted.

"I do so because it would be folly to do otherwise and because it gives me more power than the Varden would allow me to have," Morgana explained.

"Ah, so you have altruism," Murtagh said sarcastically.

"Yours amazes me, Murtagh. You capture an elf and subject to the demon you claim I am just so that you won't have to suffer," Morgana retorted.

Murtagh caught her by the wrist, "I did so because I was ordered to capture the elf if I saw her at Helgrind. I had to see her at Helgrind because I needed to get back the egg she stole from me. Besides, I did suffer. At your hand, might I add?"

"You may, but I must also add that my father ordered me to make you suffer," Morgana replied.

"And it gave you no pleasure?" he asked.

"Why would I not derive pleasure from your pain?" Morgana asked. "When have you ever cared for me? You treat me like dirt."

"I was only returning the favor," Murtagh retorted. "There was a time when I would have dug my heart out of my chest for you, and you only took advantage of it. You used me for power because you knew that your father took more interest in me because I was male."

"You lusted after me and called it love," Morgana murmured. "Love doesn't exist if there is lust. The only person I ever loved was my mother, and gods know I didn't lust after her. I was only three when she died, and she was the only person who didn't look down on me."

"I tried to give you a mother's love, but I wouldn't give you your own way all the time because I couldn't, so you turned to people who would. Those guards who thought you were the prettiest little girl they'd ever seen. And then you got older, and you realized men liked you. And then you thought that the only way you could feel wanted was to rut every man who ever looked at you and at whom you looked back. And then you got pregnant. I tried to be your mother again. I hoped Lilith would change you, but you ignored her. I taught you how to use birth control so that you wouldn't have another baby you could ignore," Deandra said. She'd returned. "And Murtagh, you should not criticize her in front of her own child. You're not perfect either. You two can't afford to fight all the time. And why are you here, Morgana? I thought you were torturing the elf."

"I was here to get some vinegar. She passed out, and we can't revive her with water," Morgana answered.

"Is she dead?" Murtagh asked. He was surprised by the faint note of concern in his voice.

"We checked her pulse, and it was there," Morgana replied nonchalantly; though, her black eyes showed that she had not missed the note of concern either. They glimmered with the light of one who had just discovered an opportunity.

_Murtagh,_ Thorn said warningly.

"Why don't you probe her mind while she's unconscious? That would make everything easier," Murtagh remarked. His voice had lost any trace of emotion, and he'd ignored Thorn.  
"I couldn't get in," Morgana admitted. She turned to Deandra and asked, "Now, may I have the vinegar?"

Deandra handed it to her.

"If she's unconscious, I wouldn't torture her too much more today. You don't want to kill her. His majesty wouldn't like that," the healer advised. Once again, Murtagh felt as though she had read his thoughts.

"I won't kill her," Morgana said. It was not lost on either of the other two that Morgana had not said she would stop the torture for the day.

_Nasuada was bad enough. Don't fall in love with the elf as well,_ Thorn remarked.

_I'm not falling in love with her,_ Murtagh said. _I barely know her._ Still, he thought of how they'd connected in some strange way the few times they'd spoken. The way they'd understood each other. The way she'd come onto him. Her pale body moving against his own. Then he thought of her torture, and he forced himself to stop thinking of her at all. Concern for a captive would never do.

_Lust and like won't either,_ Thorn warned.

Arya awoke and spluttered as vinegar was squeezed over her face and into her mouth. She vomited the liquid back up. Why had she done that? She hadn't done that when Durza had tortured her. Or had she? She couldn't remember. Morgana had done so much to her today. She'd put the rod through her stomach in the morning. Then she'd been beaten. Then she'd extracted her fingernails one by one to see if she would break. Then she'd beaten her again. Arya had lost consciousness the moment the whip had touched her back. She felt so weak. Had it really only been ten days since that night in the inn? Just the thought of it made her shiver, though whether it was with shame, pleasure, or regret, she didn't know. Perhaps it was all three. (A/N: It took them a while to travel back to Urû'baen because Thorn couldn't carry three.)

Her thoughts turned to Eragon, Nasuada, the Varden, her mother, Fäolin, Glenwing, her dead father, and then to Murtagh. They'd all suffered because of Galbatorix. She could withstand this new torture. She would withstand as long as need be.

She focused her thoughts on this and barely felt the whip upon her back.

_Think of them,_ she told herself. _Think of them. _

Deandra walked up to the guards of the throne and demanded an audience with the king.

"We can' let ya in, miss," one of the guards slurred.

"Oh good," she said, brushing past him.

"I said, 'I can' let ya in, miss,'" the guard repeated, grabbing her by her arm. His breath stank of alcohol.

"I heard you perfectly well. You said, 'can,'" Deandra replied.

"I said, 'can'," the guard protested.

"Yes, I know," the healer said, pulling her arm from his grasp. She walked into the throne and curtsied before Galbatorix.

"What do you want, Deandra?" Galbatorix asked nonchalantly.

"I am here to inform you that Murtagh's scar will heal perfectly well if he is not made to spar, lift heavy objects, or stretch too much for a week. He can practice magic," Deandra explained.

"Has it ever occurred to you that I cannot afford to have him not spar for a week? Has it ever occurred to you that his gift could suffer if that happened?" Galbatorix asked coldly.

"It will suffer far more if he has to deal with these seizures again," Deandra replied.

"Watch you tongue," Galbatorix warned.

"Your majesty," Deandra added.

"His skill cannot suffer greatly from a one week break. I know he is gifted," Deandra continued.

"He is," Galbatorix agreed. "So is the half elf. Under normal circumstances, I would send Murtagh on my mission. But since you seem to think him incapable, I'll send Hathcyn. Yes, it would not do to have Murtagh's conscience or injury get in the way of this venture." He waved Deandra aside and went into his own thoughts.

_Shruikan, the half elf is a skilled archer, no?_ Galbatorix barked.

_He seemed to be,_ the black dragon agreed. He seemed faintly surprised that the king had asked his opinion.

_He demonstrated that he can ride as well,_ Galbatorix continued. _He may not have a dragon, but he could ride into Surda and burn Aberon, don't you think?_

_I suppose so,_ Shruikan sighed wearily, _but isn't it risky t o send someone untried into the enemies' capital? _

_You only remain untried if you are not tried. He leaves tomorrow,_ Galbatorix decided, ignoring his dragon's opinion.

Hathcyn awoke abruptly as the alarm clock Galbatorix had given him went off. Eofor stirred beside him. The green dragon had grown more than he'd expected, but then he knew nothing about dragons.

_I'm starting to feel bloody ignorant,_ he thought as he pulled on his clothes.

_Where you going?_ Eofor managed to ask. The little dragon had learned to talk quite well, mostly because he kept asking Hathcyn what things were.

_I have to leave to do something for the king,_ Hathcyn explained.

_How long?_ Eofor asked.

_He said it should be about a week,_ the green rider replied.

_Too long, _Eofor declared.

_I have to go. He said it's too dangerous for you to go. I don't know why I couldn't hide you in my saddlebags, but this doesn't seem to be the kind of man to cross,_ Hathcyn replied.

_Bad,_ Eofor stated.

Hathcyn sighed. Eofor was always so blunt. He wasn't used to people like that, as he had spent most of his life beating around the bush. His mother had said this was because of his elfin blood. He was now surprised to find that he actually liked this aspect of his dragon's personality. He looked down as his dragon grinned. Eofor might not have known exactly what to say, but the dragon always seemed to understand human speech, even if he couldn't speak it well.

_I'll be back as quickly as I can, Eofor,_ he promised.

_You'd better,_ the dragon told him. Hathcyn laughed.

One Week Later

Hathcyn pulled his hood over his face to conceal his pointy ears and strode through the gate. He had the forged pass in his hand. He wondered for a moment if it would work. He'd used a fake pass of his own making before, and it had failed him. To his surprise, this one didn't.

_Is everything the king owns better?_ he wondered. He paused for a moment, half expecting Eofor to say bad as he always did. When he heard nothing, Hathcyn remembered that he hadn't been able to communicate with the little green dragon since he'd left Urû'baen a week ago.

He moved through the gate and looked around for the building Galbatorix had told him about. Apparently, the king had learned of its location from a member of a group of assassins called the Black Hand.

He spotted it almost immediately and made his way toward it. It was an unusually tall inn, almost the same height as the castle. He moved through the crowded streets quietly and slipped into an alleyway next to the building. He was grateful for the crowds. It meant he would be harder to find, and nobody would have seen him slip into the empty passage.

Hathcyn looked around for a way to scale the building and make it onto the roof. He spotted a ladder hanging several feet above his head.

He took a few steps back, ran as fast as he could, and then leapt up to grab the ladder. He caught it by the bottom rung, put his feet on the wall, and climbed to the roof. He pulled himself up there and stared out over the city. He looked around for his target. The castle's gate was wooden. So were some of the older towers. He raised his bow, muttered, "Brisingr," and released the shaft. It struck the gate. He aimed for one of the towers. He looked at the houses. Did Galbatorix really want him to burn those too? They weren't causing him trouble. Or were they? He thought back to the king's orders.

"_Burn the city to the ground with your arrows. There are no exceptions,_" Those had been Galbatorix's words. Another memory flashed through his head.

"_Do you serve?" Galbatorix asked. _

"_I do," Hathcyn replied._

The young half elf felt his arm notch another arrow, his voice mumble, "Brisingr," and the same arm release the bolt. All parts had moved according to their own will.

Nasuada was awoken at night by shouts of, "Fire!" and the smell of smoke. She quickly climbed out of bed and pulled on her over robe and her boots. It was as cold at night in Surda as it was hot during the day.

She ran through the corridors, bumping into Eragon.  
"What's wrong?" she asked as they disentangled themselves.

"An archer from the empire set fire to the castle and other buildings in Aberon," Eragon explained. "We can't find him."

Nasuada got up and ran.  
"We managed to put out the fire in the castle. Only a few people were killed, and we only lost the oldest tower—Orrin says nobody lives there anymore—but the entire city is burning," Eragon continued.

Nasuada nodded, silently cursing herself for not being more alert. She ran out onto the streets (her room was on the ground floor) and took her place at the end of a bucket brigade. The fire on that house wouldn't go out. It was spreading. It had to be put out. So many would die if it wasn't. She raised her arm and felt a word spring to her lips. "Adurna!" she shouted. Water sprayed down on the fire, extinguishing it. Nasuada felt a wave of nausea overcome her, and she fainted in the streets. Eragon, who had joined her, caught her as she fell.

Hathcyn climbed down the ladder and ran out of the alleyway. He slunk through the crowd. The only sight that stood out in his mind was that of a boy who liked like a half elf standing over an unconscious girl with ebony skin.  
Eragon saw a man running out of an alleyway behind the Inn of the Golden Falcon. Wait. That inn was almost as tall as Borromeo Castle, however narrow it was. Nasuada had just come to, so he asked explained the situation to her quickly and ran.

Hathcyn was surprised to see the boy leave the girl, who had just recovered.

_Not very chivalrous, is he?_ the rider thought sardonically. His amusement turned to confusion as he realized that the boy was running directly at him, and confusion turned to feel as he realized who the boy must be: the rider Eragon.

He wasted no time in crashing through the bucket brigade. Eragon followed him closely.

_Saphira!_ the blue rider shouted to his dragon.

_I'm helping carry water,_ the dragon protested. _You'll have to get him yourself. _

He bolted after the arsonist with inhuman speed. To his surprise, he newly elfin abilities availed him naught. He sprinted all out and caught the man by his wrist just as he was passing through the now unguarded gate.

The man pulled, but Eragon held him fast. He blocked a blow to his groin, then one to his stomach, and finally one to his eye. The man's cloak came down during the struggle. Even in the darkness, he could make out slightly pointed ears.

Hathycn took advantage of the other rider's moment of surprise to jerk his wrist away. He saw Eragon's eyes widen in shock.

"Rider!" the boy yelled.

Hathcyn cursed himself silently. How could he have been stupid enough to forget gloves? He kneed Eragon in the groin and bolted full speed towards his horse.

Wow. That was a long chapter. I wasn't expecting it to be that long. In case you didn't get that, Deandra was the sister of Murtagh's trainer, Tornac. Did you like this chapter? Please, R & R. Here are the review responses for last chapter. Eleven reviews? You guys are spoiling me.

Daydreamin' Angel: I'm glad you like Lilith and Deandra, and I hope you still do. Hathcyn is going to stop being less naïve. Eofor will be very helpful in this endeavor. I know Arya was only in the last chapter for about a second. She was in this one a little more. She'll start playing a big part again soon. I'm happy Morgana is going to die too. I'm surprised I made such an evil character.

Treeonfire13: I'm glad you liked it, and I'm glad you liked the beginning. I'm glad you think I've done the pairing well too. I've noticed something about Hathcyn: some people love him, and everyone else thinks he's annoying. I'm not sure how I feel about him, but I love Eofor, so that's good. I'm surprised at how quickly I updated this.

Fredsonetrueluv: She is a spiteful little be-otch. She semi-gutted Murtagh because Galbatorix told her to torture him though. I like the name Lilith too. That's why I named my character that. I hope you like her. No, I haven't heard anything about the third book. Have you?

Luna Serenade: So have I. I'm glad you liked the last chapter, and I hope you like this one.

Inyellel: Her mother was a servant. I'll explain it more later. I've seen your fan fic, and I like it. I'm sure I've reviewed.

Maureen90: Wow. I'm flattered. I hope this update came soon enough.

Johanna: I hate Eragon/Arya too. Murtagh/Arya makes more sense. This will be a long fic too. Start is not an inappropriate term.

TheSummoningDark: Thanks. I liked your fic though. Deandra is Tornac's sister actually. I could see how it could get confusing though.

Famous4it: Thanks. I was hoping I'd portrayed the dragons well.

Roguelane: That would be just plain stupid. I bet that's how it'll happen in the third book between Eragon and Arya too. I'm such an optimist. Not. Anyway, I know how they'll be reunited. He may sneak down to her cell before then though. I'm glad you like Eofor and Hathcyn. I'm glad they're not flat. The scar started burning again because Morgana opened it when she shoved the metal rod through his stomach. As for Lilith, who doesn't like kids?

Rock Not War: Thanks. I hope this update came soon enough.


	12. Confusion

Confusion

_And an even greater undersound  
of a vast confusion in the universe  
a rumbling and a roaring  
as of some enormous creature turning  
under sea and earth_

_-A Vast Confusion by Lawrence Ferlinghtti _

Disclaimer: Don't own. Don't sue. Thank you.

Eragon lay writhing on the ground, gasping. The other had kicked him hard. The arsonist from sight, and Eragon heard the sound of a horse whinnying. He cursed silently. The other had gotten away.

At last, he managed to pull himself up. He could not hope to catch the arsonist on foot now. He stepped back through the gate.

Nasuada saw Eragon re-enter the city and cry out, "Adurna!" Other members of Du Vrangr Gata were doing the same thing.

Wait. She had done that. Had she actually used magic? How could she have?

The answer came to her. It was farfetched, but it fit perfectly. She already knew that dream of hers hadn't been a dream at all. Perhaps she had been the one who had been given Andizhan's gift. But what did it mean? What was the one word? Her mother had told Galbatorix that she would receive the gift slowly, and she assumed that the one word would be the last thing she received. Would she recognize it when her brain thought of it? She didn't know, nor did she understand. She decided to talk it over with Eragon later. Yes, that was what she would do. Maybe she'd be taught magic. The thought frightened and intrigued her at the same time. But then wasn't controlled magic safer than the wild magic of a girl who didn't know what she was doing? She decided to drop these thoughts until she had spoken with Eragon, so she went to help put out the fire that had been set to one of the inns.

Hathcyn dismounted from the horse and walked through the darkened courtyard.

_Eofor,_ he called.

_You're finally back?_ the dragon asked, sounding deliriously excited.

_Yes, I'm in courtyard,_ he replied. He heard a rustle overhead and looked up. Eofor had blown into the courtyard. He was shocked to see that his dragon had grown so that he was now his height and three times as long as he was since he had gone.

_What's happened?_ he asked.

_Did you expect me to stay the size of a dog forever?_ Eofor asked, smiling toothily.

_Tell me what happened,_ Hathcyn begged.

_I'm usually the curious,_ Eofor protested.

_Well, it had to happen sometimes. Now please, tell me,_ Hathcyn asked.

Eofor explained all that had happened within the last few weeks, including how he had learned to fly from Thorn and Shruikan.

_Thorn is that Murtagh guy' dragon, and Shruikan is the king's right?_ Hathcyn asked. He'd have to start remembering names better.

_Yes,_ Eofor said. _Well, it was mainly Thorn who taught me. Shruikan doesn't teach much. He says it's because I'm so young, and he's forgotten how he learned to fly and all the other early lessons, so Thorn taught me everything about it._

_When will I be able to fly on you?_ Hathcyn asked. He wasn't sure what flying would be like, and he was eager to try something new for perhaps the first time in his life.

_Why not now?_ Eofor asked.

_But don't I need a saddle?_ the green rider asked.

_Well, we can get a saddle, can't we?_ Eofor asked eagerly.

_I don't know. Can we?_ Hathcyn asked.

_Galbatorix has some old saddles stored in the top of the hold,_ Eofor explained. _Thorn told me where they were._

Hathcyn went to the place Eofor had mentioned and climbed up. He just managed to squeeze through the space near the top. He stood in a room so small his head hit the ceiling unless he bent down. He grabbed the smallest saddle there and climbed back down.

_Now, how do you suppose I use this?_ Hathcyn thought to himself.

"What are you doing?" Murtagh asked. Hathcyn whirled around, his hand going to the hilt of his sword. He let it drop.

"Flying on my dragon. You don't mind, do you?" Hathcyn asked.

Murtagh shrugged and said, "Fine." He then took the saddle from Hathcyn and put it one Eofor.

"Thanks," he said.

"Galbatorix will want you to report to him soon," Murtagh continued.

"I was getting to that, but I haven't seen my dragon in a week because of him. He can wait a few more minutes," Hathcyn replied.

Murtagh drew in his breath. The half elf was getting dumber by the minute.

Hathcyn climbed onto Eofor and strapped himself in. Murtagh was amazed that he'd done that correctly.

"Steer with your knees and guide him with your thoughts," Murtagh ordered.

Hathcyn nodded, and Eofor took off.

The half elf had never felt anything like this. He didn't know whether he was going to be sick or if he actually liked this.

_Don't be sick. Like it,_ Eofor told him.

_I'll try that,_ Hathcyn said.

Eofor corkscrewed, and Hathcyn had to grip more tightly to keep from falling.

_Thorn taught me how to do that. He said he saw the blue dragon do that when he battled her on these plains that shot fire into the air,_ the green dragon explained eagerly.

Hathcyn didn't say anything.

_You didn't like that, did you? _Eofor asked.

_I suddenly feel sick again,_ Hathcyn replied.

Eofor did it again.

_You're perverse, you know that? _he asked.

_Yes,_ Eofor said. Hathcyn could practically hear the dragon grinning.

He landed and tumbled off the dragon, catching him by the saddle.

"Well, you're finally down," a drawling, female voice said. Hathcyn pulled himself up and saw a woman standing next to Murtagh.

"Was someone waiting for me?" he asked.

"His majesty," the woman answered nonchalantly. She turned to Murtagh and asked, "Why did you let him keep the king waiting? You know how he hates waiting."

"He wanted to fly," Murtagh said with a shrug. "I don't have the authority to stop a fellow rider."

_Will the wonders never cease? He just referred to me as an equal,_ Hathcyn remarked to Eofor.

_It's something to do with her,_ Eofor said. The dragon's eyes were narrowing at the woman.

_She doesn't look bad,_ Hathcyn said. The woman was, in fact, quite beautiful, with auburn hair, black eyes, and white skin. She didn't look as though she'd ever done a hard day's work in her life, but then again, none of the ladies of the court he'd seen so far had looked that way.

_Bad in what way?_ Eofor asked. _Appearance or cha-cha-?_

_Character?_ Hathcyn asked.

_Yes,_ the dragon replied.

_She doesn't look bad in either way,_ the half elf answered.

_Never go by looks,_ Eofor warned.

_When did you become so wise?_ Hatchyn teased.

"Oh, he challenges your authority, does he?" the woman mocked.

"I didn't attempt to make him go to the king. It didn't seem as though it was necessary," Murtagh replied.

"You never see when things are necessary, do you?" the woman volleyed.

"You would be a fool if you thought so, but then again, I suppose you are," Murtagh shot back.

"If you think me a fool, then you are one," the woman murmured.

"I never did," Murtagh told her. "Now, the king doesn't like to be kept waiting does he?"

"No," the woman replied. "All three of us seem to be having a problem with that one."

"That we do, but at least none of us are alone for that could be unfortunate," Hathcyn put in.

The woman turned to look at him.

"Unfortunate," she said, her lip curling. "Yes."

"Pull in your claws, Morgana. Hathcyn, beware," the red rider said before leaving the hold.

"He's always like that," Morgana said after Murtagh had left.

"Like what? Impossible?" Hathcyn inquired.

Morgana laughed. It was a raucous sound and not at all well-mannered as he had expected some great lady's laugh to be. This was a different one. That was for sure.

"Yes, he is," she muttered.

"Come," she then ordered. Hathcyn followed.

_Odd,_ he thought. _She plays first the great lady and then the wench and then the great lady again. Which is she? _

_The devil,_ Eofor replied.

_We've barely met her, and I doubt she'll be important enough to cause us trouble,_ Hathcyn retorted.

_You yourself said she played the great lady, _Eofor retorted.

_And "plays" was the key word,_ Hathcyn said.

_If she can play, she can trouble, _Eofor said.

_Your wisdom amazes me,_ Hathcyn said sarcastically.

_I listened when I was in my egg, and maybe I didn't learn speech, but I learned some wisdom,_ Eofor explained.

_I need to see this king,_ Hathcyn told his dragon.

_Then go see the bad man,_ Eofor ordered.

Hathcyn sighed. Then he remembered what had happened on the roof on Aberon, how he had momentarily lost control of himself and fired the arrow. Maybe the king wasn't so good. But then Hathcyn had never thought him good. Just not bad. Was he?

_Yes,_ Eofor said.

_We'll just have to wait and see,_ Hathcyn said.

"Hurry up. The king likes laggards not," Morgana yelled.

Hathycn ran quickly and caught up with her. He walked next to her the rest of the way.

Morgana watched the green rider out of the corner of her eye. He looked different than any human man she'd ever seen, but then again, she'd heard he was half elf.

_This could be interesting,_ she thought. She looked again. Different wasn't bad. Murtagh might hate her, but this new rider didn't need to. After all, what use had she for a powerful man who'd come to loathe her? Maybe this Hathcyn would later, but for now, she could influence him. She smiled lightly to herself.

_Beware, Hatcyn?_ she thought. _Beware, Murtagh, for two against one is never fair._

She'd have her revenge against him. She could have loved him once, but she'd learned love brought heartache and pain, so she'd decided it was better to use and hold in contempt than to love. At least she valued Murtagh enough to think him a worthy adversary. She doubted he'd feel the same way, but that didn't matter.

"What makes you smile?" Hathcyn asked.

"Many things," she replied.

"What thing now?" he asked.

"Two things," she told him.

"Are we going to the throne room?" he asked. He didn't remember going this way the last time.

"Galbatorix needs privacy," she replied. What she didn't tell him was that it was easier for her to eavesdrop on her father's conversations with important people and give him her opinion. When he'd discovered her aptitude for intrigue, he'd decided to let her do this.

"You referred to him by his first name. I didn't think anyone did that at court," Hathcyn stated.

"What do you know of court? You're new. Besides, you won't tell, will you?" Morgana replied.

"I wouldn't dream of it," Hathcyn said as Morgana opened a door he'd thought led to a closet. It turned out that it led to a flight of stairs. They descended. Galbatorix was sitting in a large chair. It wasn't a throne, but something about the man's presence commanded respect. Hathcyn bowed low. Morgana curtsied and excited up the stair, pulling the door closed behind her.

"Welcome," the king said. "This is where I hold audiences that should not be eavesdropped on or overheard by soft-hearted nobles. Burning down cities would be one of them."

"It's not exactly burned down. At least not all of it. About one third of the castle's gone, some inns, a bunch of houses. I didn't keep track," Hathcyn said.

"Why?" the king asked, forcing Hathcyn to look into his eyes.

"Fire cannot undo stone," he replied. He was surprised his voice hadn't broken.

"Magic can," Galbatorix hissed.

"Not the kind that I know," Hathcyn retorted. He cursed himself internally. He couldn't let his argumentative streak get in the way. He was behaving like he had to the watch. "Your majesty," he added, hoping it would make up for his lack of respect.

"You are untried and untrained. Murtagh was injured. It was not a pretty state of affairs," the king stated. "You will need to be trained more vigorously. Eofor flies well, and I see that you executed the burning process fairly well considering your limited abilities. There is one mistake in your mind that stands out very much. It's so careless. I can't believe you forgot to wear gloves. I can't believe you let the blue rider recognize you. I will give you credit for your underhanded way of avoiding capture though. That would have been unfortunate. Then again, I did not intend for them to know of your existence for a little while longer. I especially did not wish for them to know you were a half elf. I like the element of surprise. Hathcyn, never be careless again. It will be regrettable."

"Well, isn't it good in way that they know I exist? I mean, they know I have elf blood, they know I'm underhanded, and they know that I could burn down most of their capital. Won't it scare them?" Hathcyn asked.

"Temporary fear cannot do what surprise can," Galbatorix retorted.

"Surprise is temporary," Hathcyn shot back.

"Do you dare argue with me?" the king asked, standing to his full height. He was at least six and a half feet tall.

"I wasn't arguing," Hathcyn said.

"That was arguing," Galbatorix told him.

"I wasn't intending to argue, your majesty. Forgive me," Hathcyn said, praying to every god he'd ever heard of to help him out of this.

"You're forgiven," Galbatorix told him, "for now." Hathcyn gulped. "Are you a man or a mouse? Make up your mind."

"I'm a half breed in more ways than one, I guess," Hathcyn said before he could stop himself.

Galbatorix stared at him for a long moment and then actually laughed. "You are dismissed. Your training will begin tomorrow at six. You need to learn much."

Morgana dashed up the steps the moment she heard that and left the corridor. She stood by the top of the stairs. Hathcyn didn't need to know more than one person had been watching that interview.

Had he really argued with Galbatorix? Nobody did that excepting the Varden, but they were rebels, and she'd never actually seen a prisoner simply argue with what he said. Maybe it was the power of being a rider. Murtagh never argued with him though. Went against him, yes, but he never exchanged words with the king. Hathcyn was a half breed alright. Morgana wondered if he could back up his words with his actions.

She saw him come up the stairs. He seemed perplexed by something. Perhaps he was wondering why the king hadn't hurt him. She was wondering that herself.

_His dragon isn't loyal to me yet, so I dare not hurt the rider. Besides, the boy has a tongue in his head. He'll learn respect, and he'll learn competence. I don't think he has the daring to do what he did again. I shall make sure that the only man he fears is me. I've looked through his memories. He's never feared anyone greatly, but he feared me just then. This is good,_ Galbatorix spoke in her mind. She jumped a bit. She never expected him to talk to her that way, but occasionally he did.

"What is it, milady?" he asked.

_Just don't stay impressed by the fact that he argued with me,_ Galbatorix said, half-jokingly and half-seriously.

"Nothing," she said with a smile.

Arya put her head up as she heard movement outside of her cell. She hoped the torturers hadn't come back. Morgana had dismissed them and left herself. She felt a pain shoot through her back, and she collapsed. She gingerly propped herself up on her elbows, wincing as the cold, hard metal of the table made contact with the bare skin on her bruised elbows. She moved to her hands gingerly. They weren't as damaged as the rest of her. She looked down to see that her fingernails had begun to grow back.

In the dim light, she saw a man dragging a woman up the stairs. At first, Arya thought the woman was unconscious, but then the elf realized she was simply too weak to hold her head up. Two other people walked down the stairs. The first was a small woman, and the second stayed in the shadow. She had only heard that person moving.

The woman spoke to the guard, saying, "Be more gentle with her. She's nearly dead. If you kill her, the king'll have both our heads, and only you'll deserve it."

"Shut up, Deandra," the man snapped. "Andizhan's lived seventeen years in the place."  
"Then why am I needed?" the woman retorted.

"I don't know. The king said you were needed," the guard said. "And I don't know why he's even here."

"I am here because Morgana has, in the span of two weeks, reduced to the elf to a state almost as bad as Andizhan's. Deandra, wonderful healer though she is…"  
"Stop the flattery and get to the point!" Deandra yelled. Arya barely heard her. Murtagh was here.

"…Wonderful healer though she is, cannot handle both the elf's injuries and Andizhan's injuries," Murtagh finished with a faint touch of amusement in his voice.

"Don't laugh at me," Deandra said good-naturedly.

"Well, I won't deny that the elf's a sorry state. She can't even eat in the mornings. She vomits up everything. I know calling the stuff Morgana gives prisoners food is an insult to food, but I'd eat it if that was all I had," the guard put in. "Hell, she even vomits up the water. Of course, it's not exactly clear, so I don't blame her for that."

"That's wonderful," Murtagh said sarcastically. "Now, could you please take the woman up to the healing room?"  
"I need all the help I can get," the woman added.

A hoarse voice said, "I do too." Arya assumed this was Andizhan.

"Well, I'm giving you help," Deandra told her. Arya saw Andizhan slump against the guard dejectedly.

"You can't give me help," the woman muttered half to herself.

"We'll see about that," Deandra said, sounding slightly annoyed. She snapped her fingers, and the guard followed her, carrying Andizhan instead of simply dragging her.

Murtagh stepped quietly past them, moving into the dim lighting. Arya felt her arms give out. She'd held herself up for too long.

"Are you happy?" she asked.

"About what?" Murtagh asked.

"About what you've done to me," she said.

"No," he said.

"Why?" she asked.

"I am not like Morgana. I do not take pleasure in other people's pain," he said. She could think of nothing to say so she was silent. Murtagh continued. "It was a necessity. I was told that if I saw you, Eragon, Saphira, or Roran at Helgrind, I had to capture you or the others. I had to see you because I had to get the egg back. It's simple."

"Nothing's simple," Arya said.

"True," Murtagh agreed. "Turn over," he ordered.

Arya did. He unlaced the back of her shirt.

"I'll take it off while you turn around," she said.

"It's not as though I haven't seen it," he said.  
"Don't remind me," Arya said.

"It's not as though you can take it back."

"I wish I could."

"Do you know how many things I wish I could take back?" Murtagh asked, turning her over to face him.

"We all have many. I'm old, human. I probably regret more things than you do," she said monotonously.

"You aren't the son of a Foresworn," he said.

"I didn't speak to my mother for eighty years because I joined the Varden. I couldn't save my friends the night Saphira's egg was taken. I couldn't stop you from taking me. I couldn't stop the shade. I've behaved foolishly over the past few weeks. I've been terrible to Eragon. Would you like me to continue?"

"I couldn't stop my father from beating my mother. I didn't say goodbye to her before she died because I was angry at her for leaving. I led my friend to his death when we fled Urû'baen. I betrayed my own brother. I was stupid enough to fall for the twin's traps. My short life is as full of regrets as your long one, vanyali," Murtagh retorted.

"So we both have regrets," she said, turning back over and wincing at the pain it caused her back.

"Why-?" he began.

"There's nothing wrong with my front," she explained.

"There's nothing I haven't seen," he retorted.  
"You already said that. Besides, I've been tortured since then."

"Just let me heal you," Murtagh groaned. She closed her eyes. She noticed that he healed everything, not just the most fatal wounds. She was grateful for that.

"What will happen after he gets what he wants?" Arya asked. "Why doesn't he just break into my mind and end it?"

"He wants you to suffer first. It's your fault Eragon got the egg. You had a role in Durza's death, and you've escaped him before. If Morgana doesn't break into your mind in a month and a half, he will probe you," Murtagh said, answering the first question.

"And after that? Death?" she asked.

"There are fates worse than death, or so he says. He'll enslave you and keep you alive until he defeats the Varden," Murtagh replied after a pause.

"They will not be defeated," Arya said.

"Sleep if you can, and I hope you can keep your food down after this," Murtagh said as he left, choosing to ignore her last comment.

"Thank you," she said.

He stopped at the door. Was she thanking him for not disillusioning her or for healing her? "You're welcome," was all that he said aloud.

_Morgana will throw a fit,_ Thorn told him. _You undid all her work._

_She was so injured,_ Murtagh said.

_Torture does that,_ the red dragon said.

_You're insensitive,_ Murtagh said.

_I try._

Okay, I finally put some more Murtagh/Arya into that. I love doing their dialogue. I think it's fun. I don't know why. We got to hear from Andizhan again, Nasuada will start magic lessons next chapter, and Hathcyn will be training his ass off. And my exams are over! I don't think I failed anything, and I finished all of them, even English and World Cultures. Anyway, here are the review responses.

Ladyaymie: M/N is implied. It's more M/A. I like M/N a lot too, but I wanted to do something different. Plus, I think M/A does work, and I hate E/A so… Nasuada will play an important role in this fic, and she'll get a bigger part as the story progresses…I think. I'm not entirely sure how it will end. I have a basic idea, but everything's still pretty vague. It'll all fit together eventually, I hope.

Maze2010: I hate Eragon too. I'm glad you like the OCs, and I hope you liked this chapter.

Opal Eyes33: Thanks. I hope this update came soon enough.

Inyellel: Yeah, your fic is good. I'm glad Morgana is making sense, and I'm glad you think Lilith is cute. Five year olds always are.

TheSummoningDark: Yeah, I did. Yeah, it is easy to get confused.

Rock Not War: No, he was not.

Fredsonetrueluv: I hope it comes out soon. Yep, Lilith is her daughter. Well, Murtagh definitely liked her more than she liked him, but it wasn't completely one-sided. Yes, Hathcyn is getting tricky. I'm not entirely sure about those four. I'm thinking maybe Eragon/Nasuada, but I'm not sure. It might be clearer next chapter.

Roguelane: Well, only Morgana knows who Lilith's father is. I might choose to make it Murtagh, or I might not. Yeah, Morgana's pretty evil. I'm glad you thought it was funny when Hathcyn kicked Eragon in the balls. I don't think it will be Eragon who save Murtagh and Hathcyn.

Dodgerxreturns: I actually like that pairing too. It's weird, but it works. I'm glad you love this fic.

Treeonfire13: Yeah, Hathcyn needs to listen to his dragon. Thanks.


	13. To Stir and to Stand

To Stir and to Stand

_Samson: I strike quickly, being moved._

_Gregory: But thou art not quickly moved to strike. _

_Samson: A dog of the house of Montague moves me._

_Gregory: To move it to stir, and to be valiant is to stand. Therefore, if thou art moved, thou runn'st away. _

_-Samson and Gregory from _Romeo and Juliet_ by William Shakespeare_

Disclaimer: Don't own. Don't sue. Thank you.

"Eragon, I think I used magic during the fire," Nasuada said the moment the blue rider entered her study.

"I saw it," he said. "Do you think this has anything to do with that woman Andizhan?"

"I think it has everything to do with her," Nasuada said.

"You'll need to be taught of course," Eragon told her.

"I know," she agreed.

"You should start soon," he continued.

"I know," she groaned, putting her head in her hands.

Eragon stared at her. He was biting his lower lip, and his eyebrows had come to meet in the middle to form a line.

"What's wrong?" he asked tentatively.

"Headache," she lied.

Eragon didn't look as though he knew if he should believe her or not.

"What's really wrong?" he asked.

Nasuada stared at him. She was surprised he'd noticed.

"I don't like magic," she admitted.

"I was scared of it at first too, but it gets better," Eragon comforted. "I'll train you."

Nasuada nodded. That might make it better. She didn't want to learn from Trianna. The sorceress seemed to look down on her.

"I'm assuming that the word I used meant water," Nasuada said.

Eragon nodded. "My first word was brisingr. It means fire," he offered.

"Brisingr means fire," she muttered.

Eragon licked his finger and put out the candle.

"Try to light it," he ordered.

Nasuada stared at the candle.

"Imagine the wick lighting, and say, 'Brisingr,'" Eragon told her.

Nasuada nodded. She looked at it again.

"You should feel a wall in your mind," Eragon continued.

Nasuada felt for the wall.

"Break through it," Eragon said.

Nasuada did as he said. It was hard, but she finally pushed through it feeling power flowing through her veins.

"Brisingr," she yelled while focusing on the candle. It lit. A smile lit up her face. Eragon laughed slightly at her expression. He leaned over and looked at the floor. He grabbed a stray pebble and handed it to her.

"Say, 'Stenr reisa,' to lift it," he ordered.

"I'm tired," she protested.

Eragon poured her a goblet full of water.

"This will help," he told her.

She drank it.

"I'm hoping you can learn soon," he said after she was done.

Nasuada raised a questioning eyebrow.

"I'm going to need all the help I can get rescuing Arya," he explained.

Nasuada smiled ruefully. She should have known this would have something to do with that.

"You really care about her, don't you?" she asked.

Eragon nodded.

"Why do you ask?" he continued.

Nasuada shrugged. She didn't know why herself. She reached out and took the pebble. She focused on it as she had on the candle and said the words, "Stenr reisa," as she felt the power escape from behind the wall in her mind. The pebble rose into the air for a moment and then dropped down again.

"Well done," Eragon said clapping.

"But I barely kept it up," she protested.

"I couldn't keep in the air for very long when I first started," Eragon said.

Nasuada smiled at him, and he smiled back. Their eyes met, and Nasuada's dropped first.

"We should go see if there is anything they need us to do in the city," she said.

Eragon nodded.

"I'm sorry for distracting you," Nasuada told him.

"It was important," Eragon said. He paused at the door. "There is something I forgot to tell you," he added, blushing slightly.

"What?" she said, standing.

"Galbatorix has a new rider. He looks like an elf," Eragon said. Nasuada had to lean on her chair for support.

"No," she gasped. Everything was going wrong. First Murtagh, then Arya, and now a new rider. The only comfort was the Ra'zac's defeat.

"He's the one who started the fire," Eragon explained.

"He's that powerful?" she asked.

"I don't think he is," Eragon said. "I followed him, and he didn't use magic on me."

"Then how did he get away?" Nasuada asked, puzzled.

"He used a very underhanded fighting technique," Eragon admitted after a moment's pause. His face had gotten redder.

Nasuada couldn't help it. She laughed. She was desperate for something to laugh at, and this would have to be it.

Eragon looked offended. "There is no reason to laugh at me. I simply did not wish to stoop to his level."

"I'm sorry, Eragon," Nasuada said as she stopped laughing. "I needed something to cheer me up."

Eragon looked mollified, and he touched his first two fingers to his lips in a gesture of elfin fealty and left. Nasuada followed him. They each went to a different direction of the city after they left the castle.

Morgana awoke to a knocking on her door. Hathcyn stirred beside her and looked at the clock.

"I's only five. I don' 'af t' be up for another hour," he mumbled into a pillow.

"Go away!" Morgana yelled. "It's only five o'clock. There is no reason for me to be up this early."

"The half-elf wasn't in his room, and training is starting a half an hour early today. I decided to check in here," Murtagh's voice rang out. "Hathcyn, if you're in there, you have to be in the practice courts at five thirty."

"Savvy," Hathcyn answered. "You know what that means, correct? You don't seem to understand the meaning of privacy, so I was making sure."

"Just be at the practice courts in a half an hour," Murtagh said. He sounded annoyed.

Hathcyn got up and dressed extremely quickly.

"Do you have to go now?" Morgana asked sleepily.

"My room is half way across this place," he explained.

Morgana shrugged and fell back asleep.

He sprinted upstairs to his rooms, grabbed his sword and bow, and sprinted back down to the practice courts. He was rather winded when he got there.

"Wonderful," Galbatorix said as he approached. "You are both on time today. That is rare occurrence."

He looked at Hathcyn and then pointed to a cage full of twenty canaries.

"What would be the most effective way to kill them without wasting too much energy?" he asked.

"That's a lot to kill," Hathcyn said.

Galbatorix looked at him with an annoyed expression.

"Pinch off some blood to the brain?" he guessed. He'd decided it was a bad idea to annoy Galbatorix.

"And how would you do that?" Galbatorix asked.

"I haven't the faintest," Hathcyn said with a shrug.

Galbatorix's lips tightened. "Murtagh?" he asked. "You had better know by now."

The red rider raised his palm and shouted a spell. It was rather long, and Hathcyn didn't understand all the words. It worked very well, however, because every single bird was dead, and Murtagh hadn't even broken a sweat.

_He wasn't kidding about power,_ he said to Eofor.

_Power isn't all there is,_ the green dragon retorted.

_It is nice though,_ Hathcyn said.

Eofor cut off their link.

"That is very advanced magic," Galbatorix said. "You will need to learn it soon."

Hathcyn nodded.

"It's harder with a human," Galbatorix continued. He snapped his fingers, and a middle-aged man with slightly graying hair appeared so fast that it appeared as though he had materialized out of thin air.

"This is Damien. He is one of my mages. He will teach you about the human body and the Ancient Language. That should help you understand quick and effective ways to kill people. I shall instruct you further on darker spells," Galbatorix explained.  
"Come, master rider," Damien said. His voice was dull but authoritative. Hathcyn followed him. He had a bad feeling that this man would be unbelievably boring to listen to.

The king turned to Murtagh.

"I want you to attempt to exterminate all the mice in this castle," Galbatorix said. "How would you go about doing that?"

"I would first have to sense them with my mind, and then I would have to pinch off an artery," Murtagh said after a moment's thought. This was perhaps one of the most dangerous tasks Galbatorix had ever assigned to him. He could kill anybody if he made one wrong move.

"I'm glad you realize that," the king said.

Murtagh almost jumped. He could never get used to the fact that the king could hear his thoughts whenever he wished to do so.

"You will get used to it," Galbatorix said.

Murtagh cleared his mind and focused on the task at hand.

"Which valve would you pinch off?" Galbatorix asked.

"The aortic one?" Murtagh guessed.

"Now both my riders are playing the guessing game. Wonderful," Galbatorix said.

"Was it right?" Murtagh asked tightly.

"I hope so because you're going to try it now," Galbatorix answered.

Murtagh began the spell. The mice's minds stood out from all the other minds. They had a different feel from human minds. They were far simpler, and they relied on instinct rather than complex thought. He mumbled his spell, sending it to each mouse. Hopefully, it would work. It did, but it was a difficult spell. He was slightly out of breath by the time he was done.

"It would have been simpler to slit the jugular vein," Galbatorix said, staring at his nails. He didn't look at Murtagh as he added, "You should be a little more careful of what you kill with the spell. A rat on the fourth floor was rather unfortunate. Try the bugs next."

Murtagh groaned inwardly. Galbatorix glared at him as he did that.

"Pinch off the aortic valve for this one," the king suggested.

They went through three hours of this. Galbatorix had him kill various pests and infestations of the palace. Usually, there were multiple animals, and none of them were close together. It challenged his mind and fascinated him even as the way of regarding death as a statistic disturbed him.

At the end of three hours, Murtagh was just beginning to start another spell when Morgana strode into the practice courts.

"You!" she yelled, pointing at Murtagh.

"Me," he said, remembering Hathcyn's response to the same word.

She stood before him, shaking in rage.

"Morgana, you're interrupting this lesson. What is it?" Galbatorix said.

She drew in her breath and turned away from Murtagh slowly. "He," she began pointing at Murtagh, "undid all my work. All of it! Why was I not informed that you had ordered all the elf's injuries healed?"

"'All?'" Galbatorix repeated.

"Yes, all of her injuries. He healed all of her injuries," Morgana said.

"I thought I said, 'Only heal the injuries that are immediately life threatening,'" Galbatorix said, his voice deceptively calm.

"It's rather difficult to tell which injuries are life-threatening and which are trivial when the skin is coming off her back," Murtagh replied.

"Was it really that bad?" Galbatorix asked Morgana. He didn't sound angry. He sounded mildly impressed.

"The guard said she can't even keep her food down," Murtagh continued.

"I don't want her starving before I can get the information I need out of her," Galbatorix said.

"She threw up the food I gave her this morning," Morgana said through gritted teeth. "That has nothing to do with torture."

"Really?" Galbatorix asked. He looked interested. His eyes shifted from Morgana to Murtagh to Morgana.

"Try feeding her at night," the king suggested.

"Feeding her after she has been tortured will only make matters worse," Murtagh protested.

"When will you learn that I know best?" Galbatorix asked, rounding on him. "I am trying an experiment."

"Why do you keep doing that?" Morgana asked him.

"Doing what?" Murtagh asked.

"Insisting that you know best," she replied.

"It is said, 'To be valiant is to stand,'" Murtagh said.

"It is also said, 'To run away is to imply nothing but fear but to stand is to imply much,'" Morgana argued.

"And to stir having stood is to imply even more," Murtagh retorted.

"Then you have something to hide," Morgana said. Her words were made even more disconcerting by the fact that they were not a question.

"Don't we all?" Murtagh asked. "Don't you?"

"You stand, and you refused to stir because you think it would imply more. What have you to hide?" Morgana asked.

"Why would I tell you?" Murtagh asked.

"'To be valiant is to stand,'" Morgana sneered. "Do you desire more than glory?"

"To be persistent is to annoy, and to annoy is to repel. Do you wish to repel?" Murtagh retorted.

"And to argue is to be immature is to act like a five year old," Hathcyn said. The half-elf had reentered the practice courts alone.

"Are you finished?" Galbatorix asked him.

Hathcyn nodded.

"Block your swords," he ordered both riders. He turned to Morgana and said, "Go back to torturing the elf."

She curtsied and left the practice courts.

"Don't kill each other this time," Galbatorix suggested.

They finished sparring, and Murtagh won, though just barely. The fight was less intense than the last one.

"No broken bones," Galbatorix said. "That's good."

He then made them run laps around the palace. Hathcyn finished half a minute before Murtagh.

"I want to see you two fly," Galbatorix said. Eofor, Thorn and Shruikan landed in the practice courts just then. Or rather, Eofor and Thorn landed. Shruikan was too large to fit, so he simply hovered.

Hathcyn gaped openly at the black dragon. Shruikan had to be at least ten times bigger than Eofor. He had to be at least as tall as ten men standing on each other's shoulders and as long as twenty.

Galbatorix ignored the black dragon and looked at Eofor.

_Now is the time to swear to me, young Skulblaka,_ Galbatorix said.

_No,_ Eofor said.

Hathcyn dropped his sword. He knew Eofor didn't like the king, but he hadn't expected this.

_Eofor, swear. You must. Don't risk it,_ he warned.

_You followed a rider and an elf to steal a sword. I will refuse to swear to a man I do not like,_ Eofor said.

Galbatorix's face was contorted in anger. Compared to his expression, Morgana had looked happy.

_Swear now,_ Galbatorix ordered. His voice sounded like a hiss.

Murtagh knew Galbatorix was extremely angry. Normally, when the king was angry, his demeanor became calmer and more courteous with only his eyes hinting at danger. Eofor must have enraged him beyond belief.

_No,_ the dragon repeated.

_Your rider has sworn! The king wants you to swear. You will help no one by not swearing,_ Thorn told him.

Eofor ignored him, something that he'd never done before.

_Swear now. This is your last chance,_ Galbatorix said.

_No,_ Eofor said. _You are a murderer and a liar. You will not control me._

Galbatorix advanced slowly. Eofor, who had been hovering, fell to the ground, writhing in agony. Hathcyn tried to reach out to him, but something, probably Galbatorix, was pushing him back.

He felt himself fall to the ground. Something was attacking his mind. The small part of him that could think through the pain knew it was Galbatorix.

_Blödh Helmingr, _the king's voice said. Hathcyn didn't know what it meant, but he recognized it. It felt familiar. No, it was more than familiar. It _was_ him.

_Standa Braskr,_ Eofor heard the king say to him. The dragon knew what the word was. Thorn had told him that the only reason he and Murtagh served Galbatorix was because he had their true names. Now he knew his and Hathcyn's.

_You are a bad influence on your rider,_ Galbatorix said. _You are not to speak to him unless I or on of my allies besides you and your rider are present. _

Yes, that's the end of chapter thirteen. I know Arya wasn't in this chapter, but she will be in the next one. I promise. What happened in this chapter was necessary for what will happen later on. Hathcyn needed a reason to turn on Galbatorix, and now he has one.

Oh, for the names: Helmingr means half in Old Norse, and Blödh is blood in the Ancient language. Hathcyn's names means "half blood." I thought it fit his personality. Braskr means brave, and Standa means stand. Eofor's name means "brave stand." I thought that fit his defiance to Galbatorix. Anyway, I've been busy. Sorry this update took so long. But, on the bright side, I was bitten by a plot bunny, and I know what will happen. For some odd reason, I have "La Vie Boheme" stuck in my head. Anyway, here are the review responses.

ANGEL-OF-DEATH6: I'm glad you like that pairing, and I'm glad you like how I've done it. I'm glad you like everything else too.

BrainDrain: Yeah, I thought since it had been a while, they needed to meet. I chose the only plausible way they could meet, and that was last chapter. They will probably meet again in two or three chapters. Yeah, Hathcyn has a lot to learn, and he's learning it the hard way. I love Murtagh so much. He'll probably get happy ending eventually. At least, I'll give him one. I'll try to keep the OCs from "stealing it" so much. I see what you're saying. I can't do much with Murtagh and Arya though because she's in prison. Once she gets out, the OCs will work with the main characters, and everything will start to come together…sort of. I haven't worked everything out, but I have a much better idea of where this is going.

Prettybella: Thanks.

Stripysockz: I'm glad you like Hathcyn and Eofor. I'm glad you liked the argument scene. I'm glad I've converted you to the pairing. I'm glad you like the Andizhan twist. I think you'll like the next one.

Roguelane: Yeah, I'm not exactly sure how I feel about that either, but it will be important later. She didn't actually love Murtagh. If she could love, she would have loved him, but she can't really love. If that made sense, I'm proud of you. I've decided Lilith is not Murtagh's daughter. It just didn't work. Well, it did, but I didn't want to do it. I'm glad you liked the Hathcyn/Galby exchange. I had to put in some Murtagh/Arya, so I liked writing the last scene of the last chapter. Yep, Morgana was livid. And Nasuada and Murtagh will not be together in this fic. I'm glad you don't want them to be because even though I like that pairing, I want Murtagh/Arya. Lilith will probably be in the next chapter. I have an idea for her, but I'm not quite sure how to execute it. I think I almost have it.

Inyellel: Well, I tried a little Eragon/Nasuada in this chapter. Do you like it? I totally agree with you about why both those pairings work.

CaramelBoost: I won't make Lilith turn out like Morgana. She doesn't deserve that. I'm glad you liked the Murtagh/Arya scene, even if it did come across as a little corny. I think the scene in chapter one was better, but whatever. Yay! Rhyming! I agree with you about Nasuada needing more power. That's why I gave her magic. And I brought Hathcyn's sarcasm back in this chapter (hopefully). I might actually have him turn the tables on Morgana.

Maze2010: Yes, and Hathcyn's mess just got worse. I'll try to have Thorn and Eofor interact more. That will be fun.

TheSummoningDark: Yeah, Eofor definitely gets it more than Hathcyn does. You won't have to grovel much. I don't want a sad ending for this chapter fic. I'll try not to make it all bunnies and rainbows, but it will be happy. You won't have to grovel for it.

Famous4it: Thanks.

Fredsonetrueluv: I thought she needed some more power. I'm really happy with how Eofor's turned out. I love writing him with a 'tude.

Rock Not War: Thanks.


	14. What Could Help

What Could Help

_Let him know that you know best  
Cause after all you do know best  
Try to slip past his defense  
Without granting innocence   
Lay down a list of what is wrong  
The things you've told him all along  
And pray to God he hears you  
And pray to God he hears you_

_-The Fray in How to Save a Life_

Disclaimer: Don't own. Don't sue. Thank you.

Andizhan awoke without opening her eyes in the middle of a bed. She felt something warm on her blanket. It took her a moment to realize it was the sun. She almost smiled. It had been seventeen years since she'd felt the sun on her skin.

It had been slightly longer since she'd lain in a proper bed. She almost smiled again. She remembered Ajihad. Then her near-smile slipped. He'd been dead a year. She remembered how Galbatorix had come down to her cell to tell her the news and try to find the word. He hadn't come down again until about two and a half weeks ago. At least it had been that long according to the lines she'd scratched into the cot's mattress.

She felt the bed tip slightly. She opened her eyes to see a small girl with orange hair sitting on the end of the bed.

"You're awake," the girl said, titling her head to the side.

"Yes," Andizhan said.

"Why don't you sit up?" the girl asked.

"I can't," Andizhan explained.

"Deandra said you were sick. I didn't realize you were that sick," the girl remarked, tilting her head even farther to the side.

"Is Deandra the small woman with the red hair?" Andizhan asked.

The girl stopped tilting her head, straightened her neck, and nodded. Then she got up and ran across the room yelling, "Deandra, she's awake!"

"Okay, I'm coming, Lilith" the same voice from the previous night yelled. "So, you're awake now? I suppose you'll be willing to give me a chance to help you, and if you still don't think I can't, I'll have to prove you wrong."

"You don't understand," Andizhan said.

"I probably don't," Deandra agreed. "I still have to heal you."

"You're healing me so that the king can break into my mind without killing me," Andizhan said.

"This won't be the first time I've healed someone for that reason," Deandra said.

"So, you're his healer? Why?" Andizhan asked.

"I serve the king because that I nothing else to do and because it pays well and because I need to look after some people," Deandra explained.

"Is she your daughter?" Andizhan asked, indicating Lilith.

"No, I'm simply raising her for a mother who wouldn't do a good job," Deandra said. "I've been married twice. I had a child with the first one, but he died because of the same disease that killed his father."

"What happened to the other one?" Andizhan asked.

"The second one was older than I was, but he could handle me better than the first. I never loved anyone more. He died five years ago," Deandra said.

"I'm sorry," Andizhan said. "My husband died last year."

"Wait. You're the former rebel leader's wife, aren't you?" Deandra said.

"Yes," Andizhan replied.

"I'm sorry," the healer said. "I healed you while you were asleep. Well, really passed out."

Andizhan groaned quietly.

"You'll live. Besides, if I heard correctly, there's not much left you can give," Deandra said.

Andizhan shook her head. "Only my daughter's life," she murmured.

Deandra looked at her with a little pity.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I can't help you with that. I can only keep you alive a little longer."

"Can you help me die a little sooner?" Andizhan asked.

Deandra almost dropped what was in her hands.

"No," she said. "I cannot—will not—do that."

"It was worth a try," Andizhan muttered.

"Why do you want to die?" Lilith asked.

"If Galbatorix gets what he wants from me, my daughter will be in danger," Andizhan replied.

"Do you love her?" the girl asked. There was a strange hint of sadness in the girl's voice.

"Yes," Andizhan answered. She had the feeling that Lilith didn't think her mother loved her.

Lilith nodded a little bit before the sadness left her face and she turned to face Deanrda again.

"Do you still need me to stir the sleeping potion?" she asked.

"Yes," Deandra replied, handing the girl a stirrer.

"Who's it for?" Lilith asked as she stirred the concoction.

"Those prisoners Morgana doesn't let sleep," Deandra said. "I've heard she's started giving them potions that keep them awake at night."

Lilith looked sadder again.

"Listen, girl. You're not like her. Don't worry," Deandra said.

"Maybe that's why she doesn't love me," Lilith said quietly.

Deandra looked angry, though not at the child.

"If she loves anybody, she loves you," Deandra said at last. "She's just never been a maternal sort. Don't think on it."

"I won't," Lilith promised.

"The potion is mainly for the elf," Deandra said, changing the subject. "There's another one I made up that'll negate the effects of the waking potion."

The healer turned to Andizhan and handed her a cup. "This'll put you back to sleep," she explained. "I think you need that more than anything."

Andizhan nodded and downed the thing in one gulp. Almost instantaneously, she fell into a deep and dreamless sleep for the first time in a long time.

Things were not going well for Thorn. His rider was doubtlessly going to do something stupid because of the elf very soon, he had been scratched by Shruikan more times than he could count during lessons, Murtagh had wasted a lot of energy healing him, Eofor was currently in a state of despair, and Thorn had absolutely no idea how to comfort the distraught dragon.

_It's my fault,_ Eofor kept repeating. _Why didn't I listen? I should have listened. If I'd listen, I would still have Hathcyn._

_You do still have him,_ Thorn said. _He's still your rider. Besides, I doubt Galbatorix will keep this up for very long. _

_He will,_ Eofor said. _I know he will. _

Thorn sighed. It was true. He probably wouldn't do it forever, but he would do it for a while.

_The least you can do is stop crying about it. Murtagh and I have punished before this, and we've survived. You will. Just stop crying. It won't make anything better,_ Thorn said. He then decided to use his last resort. _Besides, how can you fight him if you're like this? _

Eofor thought for a moment. _You're right. I've learned my lesson. I'll find a way out of this._

_Good,_ Thorn said, thanking his lucky stars that the green dragon had stopped crying.

_It hurts. Not being able to talk to him. Is there any way around it?_ Eofor asked.

_None that I can think of,_ Thorn said. _You can still share emotions. Possibly. Try it. Try to convey pictures to Hathcyn. They're not really thoughts. _

_I'll try that,_ Eofor said.

_Only use it in times of urgency,_ Thorn warned. _He'll figure it out otherwise. _

Eofor nodded. He reached out for Hathcyn's mind and felt a block. He gasped in pain.

_It didn't work,_ he said. The dragon's voice had become deadened.

_I'm sorry,_ Thorn said.

_He'll pay, _Eofor said.

_He will,_ Thorn found himself saying. So, he'd found himself agreeing with the belligerent, blunt little dragon. Maybe he was going crazy. Hell, maybe he needed to go crazy.

Eofor grinned.

Lilith walked through the corridors. She stood still for a moment. What were the directions to the Foresworn chambers again? Which vial was to counter the waking potion and which one was the sleeping potion?

Just then, she saw the person she'd been looking for walking down the corridor.

"Uncle Murtagh!" she called out.

The man stopped.

"Lilith, what are you doing awake at this hour?" he asked, kneeling down so that he was at her level.

"I have to take these things down to the elf in the dungeons. Apparently, my momma gave her something that won't let her sleep. I have to give her an antidote and sleeping potion because what my momma's doing is in-in-inhumane?"

Murtagh nodded. Lilith could have sworn she'd seen a look of anger cross his face when she mentioned what was happening to the elf.

"Anyway, I need a pass, and only you could get me a pass," Lilith finished.

"Come on," he said, taking her hand as he stood.

"You're hurting my arm," she said.

Murtagh chuckled slightly and picked her up.

"I'm five. I can walk," she protested.

Murtagh put her down.

"Do you know that way to the dungeons?" he asked her.

Lilith shook her head.

"Follow me then," he said.

Arya was lying on her cot in the cell. She couldn't sleep as much as she tossed and turned. In fact, tossing and turning made her newly beaten back hurt even more. She decided to simply sit up. She could do that, at least for now. She wondered how long Murtagh's healing would do her any good. Morgana had taken her revenge by giving her a potion that made it impossible for her to sleep.

That was when she heard movement outside her cell. She squinted through the bars and saw the outline of two men. She gulped as she recognized one outline. Murtagh was back.

Wait. Why had she recognized his outline? That made no sense. That night had been nothing. Why couldn't she forget it then? Had it been something? She almost laughed.

A smaller figure became visible as she stepped into the light. It was a little five year old girl.

"Who are you?" Arya asked as the girl unlocked the cell door and entered.

"I'm Lilith," the girl said. "I have two potions for you."

"What are they?" Arya asked. She didn't want to distrust a child, but she didn't know who'd sent her, and after all, she couldn't be that hard to deceive.

"This one is an antidote to the waking potion. This one is a sleeping potion. It'll practically knock you out for a few hours," Lilith explained, holding out the vial.

Arya didn't take it. She was afraid this child had been lied to and was really giving her something that would cause even more pain. She definitely wouldn't put something like that past Morgana.

"Why don't you take it?" Lilith asked.

"I can't be too careful in this place," Arya said with a slight smile.

"Oh no, it's fine," Lilith said, continuing to hold the vial out.

"Just take the potions, vanyali. Trust me. They didn't come from Morgana," a male voice said.

Arya closed her eyes.

"Murtagh," she said, leaning back against the wall subconsciously. She winced at the sudden contact.

"Did they come from you?" she asked, crossing her arms over her chest and trying to ignore the pain.

"Are you alright?" he asked. He'd seen her wince.

"What do you think?" she asked.

Murtagh was silent.

"Lilith, may I have the waking antidote?" he asked kindly.

The girl handed it to him.

"You didn't answer my question," she said. "From whom did the potion come?"

"A healer known as Deandra," Murtagh replied.

Arya reached out her hand to take the potion. Murtagh's fingers brushed against hers as she took it. She shivered and then mentally cursed herself. Why was she acting like a little girl? She was older than he was, and he was a human at that, barely old enough to be considered a man among her own people no matter what his own thought of him.

"Why are you rolling your eyes at me?" Murtagh asked.

"I don't know," she said. She took the lid off the vial and downed it.

"It tastes vial," she murmured.

"Most of her things do," Murtagh agreed.

"She made me swallow worse things when I got sick," Lilith put in.

She laughed slightly before it turned into a cough.

Murtagh put a hand around her waist to pull her forward and clapped her on the back.

"Did it go down the wrong pipe?" he asked.

Arya nodded and stopped coughing.

"I have to go give the other prisoners the potions," Lilith called. The cell door slammed.

Murtagh and Arya both looked around. The latter became aware that the former had not let go of her waist yet. She felt herself leaning into him. She pulled away slightly a second later. She shouldn't be doing this.

"You can let go of me. Dras Leona will never happen again," she said.

Murtagh chuckled softly and pulled her closer. He put a hand on her chin and raised her lowered eyes to meet his.

"Is that so?" he asked.

Arya put her lips very close to his and ran one finger over his chest. She smiled slightly as she felt him shiver. She whispered, "Do you really think that I could do that again after all you've done to me? You saw what happened to me because you captured me. You could have ignored me in the inn, and none of this would have happened." She pushed him off of her and slid away.

"We have spoken of regrets, vanyali. I did not intend to hurt you, and I have helped you to the best of my ability," Murtagh said. His voice had grown colder.

"Regrets do not fade," Arya said. Her voice was equally cold. "They never should. Maybe you didn't intend to harm me, but I cannot forgive you for it. I cannot dally with the enemy."

Murtagh pressed his lips against hers. She tried to pull away, but he held her fast. He flicked his tongue against her lips, inviting them to open. She opened her mouth and leaned in closer. She didn't have the strength to resist left in her. They stayed like that for perhaps a minute, perhaps an hour. Murtagh pulled away and stared at her.

"You already did," he said as he got up and left.

Arya took the second vial that Lilith had given her and stared at it. Why had she let him do that? He'd made a fool out of her just after she thought she'd made a fool out of him. She slumped angrily against the wall of her cell and downed the second vial. It tasted awful, but she kept drinking. By the time she was done, she had slumped against the cot and fallen into what was the most peaceful sleep she'd had in a long time.

That is the end of chapter 14. I myself was surprised by the Murtagh/Arya action in this one. I wasn't expecting to have them meet again for a while. So, did you all love it or hate it? Please, R & R as you always do. Here are the review responses.

Roguelane: It's fine. You were away from technology. As for whether or not she's pregnant, just wait and see. You'll find out who Lilith's father is soon. Very soon. I'm glad you love Hathcyn. Everything will work out in the end. I'm glad you thought the scene where Galbatorix was torturing Hathcyn and Eofor was powerful.

Prettybella: Nasuada will be in the next chapter more. I'll put in more about her lessons. I'm glad you liked the chapter other than that.

CaramelBoost: Yeah, I can't beat chapter 1. Well, maybe I will, but I don't know. I hope you liked this scene. Lilith was in this chapter, and she will probably be in the next one. I'm glad you liked the Eofor scene. I feel sorry for him too. Nothing seems to go his way, does it? And yes, there was a Murtagh/Arya scene. A Morgana torture fest is coming soon. It'll be the biggest yet. I think we all like hating that OC.

TheSummoningDark: I'm glad you want to huggle Eofor. I hope you liked this chapter.

KewlKid: I know it took me a while to update. I was busy.

Shara: Thanks so much. That was very nice.

Blizzardstar2000: I'll admit it's an unorthodox method. I never pictured Galby as much of a diplomat. I think he tries, but then he just snaps. I hope you liked this update.

Fredsonetrueluv: That does describe Eofor. I'm glad you saw the bit of Eragon/Nasuada and liked it. There will be more bits that will become more than bits later on. I promise I will put Nasuada in the next chapter.

Suicune1000: Thanks. I get that stuck in my head so many times. My personal favorite part is, "To hand-crafted beer made in local breweries. To yogurt, to yogurt, to rice and beans and cheese. To leather, to dildos, to curry vindaloo. Huevos rancheros and Maya Angelou. Emotion. Devotion. To causing a commotion. Creation. Vacation. Mucho Masturbation." I hope you liked this chapter.

ANGEL-OF-DEATH6: I hope you end up liking where I go with that pairing. I'm glad you felt sorry for Eofor. Now, I think Hathcyn will begin to listen. He needed that kick in the pants. (Much like the one he gave Eragon. Haha. Lame joke.) Yep, Galby's rude. I'm glad you love Shakespeare. I read Romeo and Juliet and Othello for English, and I loved them both.

Kiba-ish: Who doesn't love Murtagh? He's awesome. I'm glad you love this fic.

Maze2010: Thanks. I'm glad it felt natural. I had some Thorn and Eofor stewing in this chapter. You'll find out what that means. I think I know what you think I mean, and I know that you will eventually find out if you're right.


	15. Messengers

Messengers

_Remember that woman who said she had dreams?_

_-Captain Bush from Medium_

Disclaimer: You all know I don't own any of the Eragon characters. Anyway, on with the chapter.

Elva was sitting in the corner of her room, her head bowed. She felt an overwhelming need to go out into the city and help somebody. She could feel everyone's pain as though it were her own. She had to do something. She just had to, but Greta wouldn't let her go. She'd said it was too dangerous.

Elva looked up at her old caretaker. She seemed close to sleep.

The dragon-marked girl smiled ruefully. She'd only have to endure a few more minutes of this. Once more, she regretted her decision to have Eragon wait until the war was over to heal. She'd made it after the Battle of the Burning Plains, and it was causing her even more pain than she'd expected it to.

She put her head between her knees. She'd heard it helped to prevent vomiting. As soon as she did this, Elva felt the strangest sensation. It felt as though she was being pulled out of her skin.

She stared upwards. A young, auburn-haired woman of perhaps nineteen or twenty stared down at her. Her head was cocked to the side.

"You're the one I've found?" she asked.

"I suppose so," Elva said scornfully, standing. She looked past the woman and saw that she was in a large, stone hall. "Who were you looking for?"

"I don't know," the woman said, stamping her foot. "I just didn't expect such a young girl. You see, before I died, my daughter was your age. Of course, she's older now. She's older than I was when I died now."

"You're dead?" Elva asked. Maybe that explained why she didn't feel the need to soothe any of her troubles.

"Yes, for…" The woman's voice trailed off as she counted off numbers on her fingers. "I've been dead for seventeen years now," she said at last. Then, as though she had said nothing, the woman asked, "What's your name?"

"Elva. Yours?"

"Medea," the woman answered. "Listen, I only have another hour with you. Oh, why was I chosen to deliver the message? They know I'm not as smart as they are."

"Who are they?" Elva asked.

"The other spirits in the Vault of Souls," Medea said. "There are all those riders, and the Vault picks a maid to talk with the medium, and you're just a little girl. Then again, I think they said all the mediums were young nowadays."

Elva understood why Medea had said she was not very bright.

"About what do you wish to speak to me?" Elva asked.

"Many things," Medea answered. "First of all, you're a medium. That means that every five years there's a medium, a spirit from the Vault can speak to one of them. We don't really get to choose which one. It's rather unfortunate."

"What else?" Elva said. "What's the Vault?"

"It's where all the dead go. I can't explain it really. Occasionally we get to look out on the world. I think it's on Vroengard, or at least one its entrances is. It's very confusing, and I never understood the way things worked. I suppose that's why I was executed. I didn't understand some things."

"You were executed?" Elva asked. "Why?" She didn't know why she was so curious, but she was.

"I was the king's mistress," she explained. "I fell in love with another after being with him for three years. I thought that since I wasn't married it was fine if I had more than one lover. It wasn't." Medea looked a little sad.

"Wait. Do you mean Galbatorix when you say king?" Elva asked.

Medea nodded. "I didn't have a choice, really. I just did as I was told. Then I didn't, and I died."

"I'm sorry," Elva said at last. That was all she could think of to say. Her ability to comfort seemed to have vanished along with her need to do so.

"Oh, no, you're not. You think I'm a terrible idiot. I am, I suppose, though I never did think I'd see the day I'd see a five year old smarter than me. Then again, I did see you. You're the one the blue rider cursed, right?"

Elva nodded. "I think you're smarter than him," she added.

Medea shook her head. "I just don't have the power to do much damage. Don't feel the need to cheer me up. I know you don't, so don't try to. I'm dead. What's done is done."

The unnerving thing about this speech was that she seemed to mean it.

"What else do you have to tell me?" Elva asked, sitting down again.

Medea sat down in front of her.

"The first thing is a message for the blue rider from Vrael: You must find your true name to open the Vault and get your weapon. I was also supposed to tell you where the Vault was, but I already did that," Medea began.

"True name, Vault on Vroengard, weapon, got it. Where's the weapon?" Elva asked.

"The Menoa tree," Medea explained.

"Is that where it is?" Elva asked.

"That's what the werecat told him. I believe he said it was under its roots," Medea replied.

Elva thought for a moment. She supposed the werecat meant Solembum. Eragon would know.

"What else?" she asked.

"You can contact the other mediums," Medea said. "There's one other left. She's five, and she lives in Galbatorix's palace. Befriend her. She needs it. She doesn't know many people her own age."

"I'm not sure I'm the best person for that job," Elva muttered.

"Maybe not," Medea agreed, "but maybe you will be. Just try it. She can give you information about Galbatorix. She's his granddaughter, so she'll see things, but nobody notices her."

"Is she yours as well?" Elva asked.

Medea nodded.

"I was only sixteen when I had my own daughter," she explained when she saw Elva's expression. "She was fifteen when she had Lilith."

Elva knew that was young. It scared her.

"Lilith is her name?" she asked.

Medea nodded again.

"Will she tell me things?" Elva asked.

"She barely knows the king, and the little she knows of him scares her," Medea explained. "She'll tell you anything because she knows he won't find out. Ask her about the elf named Arya first. Eragon will want to know about her. Just don't ask her too much. There are things that are not necessary for him to know."

Elva frowned at the woman.

"Whatever Lilith tells you, tell Eragon nothing that could hurt him," Medea said.

"What do you mean?" Elva asked.

"Forget I said anything. Lilith won't know anything about that, and neither do you," Medea said quickly.

"I'm the medium, at least according to you. I need to know," Elva said.

"There are some things that will not matter in the end. You'll know what those things are," Medea said.

"How do I find this Lilith?" Elva asked.

"Sense her mind. It will feel different because she can talk to ghosts," Medea explained. "Try it now."

Elva stared at her, uncertain of what to do.

"I've heard closing your eyes helps," Medea suggested.

Elva closed her eyes.

"She'll be the only mind besides mine you can sense in this place," Medea continued.

"**Oh, excuse me, I must be in the wrong story." A 9thgrade, brunette girl in a little Madeline dress appeared.**

"**Sorry, could you point out How to Make Legolas Crazier for me?"**

"**No," Medea replied. "I'm afraid you're going to have to find that for yourself."**

"**Oh, gingersnaps." Amy replied, and then disappeared in a puff of amyness. And, now Ally will not be allowed to erase this. Thank you for your time. I'm so sorry about Amy. She really can't help it, and I have to get her away from me some way. Just kidding. Sorry again.**

Elva felt something.

"That's my mind," Medea said.

Elva tried again.

_Who are you? _a voice asked.

_Elva. You?_

_Lilith. Why are you in my head?_

_I don't know. Someone said I could contact you._

_Are you a ghost?_

_No, but I can talk to them. So can you. That's why I can talk to you. _

_How old are you?_

_Four._

_I'm five, and you sound older than I am.  
I'm cursed. It changes me._

_I'm sorry. Why are you talking to me?_

_A ghost told me to._

_Which ghost?  
Her name was Medea._

_That was my grandmother's name._

_Medea is your grandmother._

_Is this real?_

_Yes._

_What do you want?_

_I'm with the Varden. _

_They're rebels.  
I know._

There was a pause after Elva said that.

_Lilith?_ she asked.

_I've heard they're not all bad from Uncle Murtagh. _

_The red rider is your uncle?_ she asked. She remembered the discomfort she'd felt from both Nasuada and Eragon after the Battle of the Burning Plains.

_Not really. I just call him Uncle because I want to._

_That's strange. I have a caretaker. I don't call her mother, but I suppose she's like one. _

_That's interesting. What happened to your parents?  
They died._

_I'm sorry. My mother ignores me. I don't know who my father is._

_I'm sorry too._

_It's fine. It's not as though you can do anything. Besides, I have a caretaker too. Her name's Deandra. She's nice. _

_That's good. I suppose Greta' s nice, but she's overly protective. But how do you know the red rider?_

_Do you just want information out of me?_

_I don't just want information._

_It's alright. I'll tell you some things. It's not as though he'll find out. I know Murtagh because he used to be friends with my mother and because Deandra was his nurse when he was a baby. _

_Oh. What do you mean by "used to?"_

_They don't like each other anymore. I've seen them fighting a few times. _

_What's your mother's name? _

_Morgana. _

_Have you seen an elf in the palace by any chance?_

_I did. I went down to the dungeons to give her a potion to help her sleep. My mother gave a potion to keep her from sleeping. I had one to counteract that and another one to make sure she did sleep. Uncle Murtagh was there too. They talked a little. Does he know the elf?_

_From what I've heard, he and the blue rider rescued her from Gil'ead. Why was he with you then though?_

_He needed to get me a pass to the dungeons. _

_What is going to happen to her?_

_I heard that she would be a slave after they extract her memories. Galbatorix himself won't test her for another seven weeks. If Morgana can pry into her mind, he won't test her at all. He'll keep her as a slave after that or try to turn her. _

_I have to go,_ Elva said. She could feel herself being pulled away. _Thank you for telling me these things._

_Bye, Elva, _Lilith said.

The last thing the girl saw before everything faded was Medea fading as well. The woman said, "You can get into here easily. Just think. It'll feel different than any place in your world."

"You mean I won't feel the need to make everything right in everyone's life," Elva said.

Medea nodded before she vanished completely.

Elva put her head up. Greta had fallen asleep.

She got up and walked out of the room.

"You did the right thing," she whispered to her caretaker as she left the room. "I will help so many because you let me."

The caretaker smiled in her sleep. She seemed to sink more deeply into it. Elva knew she wouldn't be awake for a while.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Nasuada was holding a bowel of water for a healer. She apparently needed it to heal the burns of the young male patient. She silently wished she had more magic and could be of more use. It did no good.

"How long have those herbs been in there?" the healer asked.

"Four minutes," Nasuada said. "You need them now."

"Good job," the healer said as Nasuada handed her the water. The other woman dampened a towel with it and applied it to the burn area. Nasuada almost gagged in revulsion at the sight of the wound.

"Lady Nasuada, what are you doing here? There are plenty of relief workers. We have to discuss strategy about what to do about fire. We need your opinion as leader of the Varden," Orrin's voice rang out.

"Sire, I think this is a good start," she said.

"You know that's not the only issue. Eragon just informed about the new rider. Lady Nasuada, why didn't that come from you?" Orrin continued.

"I was busy, and I was planning to tell you soon. I only just found out yesterday, and I've been working in the healer's wards since then. Besides, Eragon told you," Nasuada said.

"I've already said that I would have rather heard it from you," Orrin mumbled. "Listen, even the rider could take the time to tell me, but you did not. Why do you have no respect for me as a leader?"

"Has she supported you and trusted you enough to bring the Varden here?" another voice asked. It was Eragon.

Nasuada sighed. Eragon didn't need to offend Orrin. She wished he was more diplomatic.

"Yes, Shadeslayer, she has, but she does do things without my permission," Orrin argued.

"And she has every right to do so," Eragon continued.

"Eragon, please," Nasauda said, leaving the patient's side and putting a hand on his arm. "Your highness, I am sorry I did not inform about the new rider. I am also sorry if I have ever acted without your permission, but if you are referring to the business with the lace, you must keep in mind that you told me to support the Varden in my own way."

Orrin sighed. "I suppose you are right in your way. You did make sure I was informed of the events by your vassal. Leave as soon as you can. We need to discuss what to do about this new rider. Eragon has told me that he is sure it is not the red one."

"I am," Eragon said. Nasuada was thankful that he had not gone farther. She didn't want Orrin to be told of the red rider's identity.

"I will see you in the council chambers," Orrin said. "Eragon, if you can come?"

"I can, Sire," he said. "Just don't make the meeting too long. The city needs help."

"I am aware of that," Orrin said. "I helped last night. I've sent all this help. I won't the meeting too long for that reason." With that, the Surdan king walked away.

Eragon leaned over and healed the man's burn for the healer, who had been struggling with it. The young woman smiled at him, thanked him, and then ran away quickly when Eragon smiled back.

"Don't insult him, Eragon," Nasuada said.

"I wasn't insulting him," Eragon said defensively. "I was just annoyed with the way he was insulting you."

"I was handling it perfectly well, and he is sheltering the Varden. We can't offend him, and he has to have some say in our affairs," Nasuada retorted.

Eragon opened his mouth to say something, but they were both cut off by Saphira's voice.

_Eragon apologizes for causing you any problems and embarrassment. I would also like to add that Orrin needs your allegiance, Lady Nasuada, and that he must tolerate Eragon no matter because we are the best weapon you have against Galbatorix, especially since the new rider has recently appeared. Orrin knows this. That is why he didn't grow angry at Eragon, at least not openly. I doubt his defense of you will cause any diplomatic strains, Lady Nasuada._

"You're right," she said aloud. Saphira may have spoken to her through her mind, but she didn't feel as though she had the right to do that. At least not yet.

As they made their way back to Borromeo Castle, something happened. Elva came running up to them, clutching her stomach.

"A man's trapped under that building," she gasped, pointing to the charred remains of a burned building. "I-I can't get him out. I've tried, but I can't. Need help."

Eragon and Nasuada both ran to where she had pointed, Elva following them as best she could.

Eragon began to mumble under his breath.

"Shouldn't you be speaking the Ancient Language?" Nasuada asked, puzzled.

"I am," he said.

"It sounded like Common Tongue," she mumbled.

Eragon stopped.

"Don't," Elva hissed. "Help. That. Man."

Eragon nodded and continued.

Nasuada and Elva went for the man as soon as Eragon had peeled the wreckage away. The latter put his hands on the burns and murmured the same words as before. It sounded to Nasuada as though he was saying, "Be healed."

"How did you get out of your rooms?" Nasuada asked. "I thought Angela had told Greta not to let you come here."

"Greta fell asleep, and Angela's been out here all along. I needed to come help people. You've seen how much it costs me to resist the urge, but you clearly haven't felt it," Elva replied. When Nasuada shuddered, the girl added, "It wasn't your fault." Eragon looked slightly ashamed by this. Elva turned to him and said, "You offered to heal me. I chose this other path. I can't stray from it now." The girl paused for a moment. She decided to relay to them all that Medea and Lilith had told her.

Both rider and leader exchanged worried glances. Elva glared at them.

"I swear it's true," she said.

"So Arya is in Urû'baen?" Eragon asked.

"Yes," Elva said.

"And Murtagh is helping her?" he continued.

"Yes," Elva said. Her voice was beginning to take on an annoyed tone.

"Lilith puzzles me," Nasuada said. "Why is she helping you?"

"I already explained that," Elva said.

"I'm sorry. We seem so repetitive. We're just trying to make sense of this," Nasuada explained.

"I will continue to speak with her. I will find out what I can. I do know that Arya is not going to die for a while," Elva said.

"Come to the council with us," Nasuada ordered. "They will want to hear what you have to say."

Elva smiled ruefully as she followed them. Those two probably wouldn't be able to explain what she had told them to the council anyway.

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_Why didn't you go with the mini tonight?_ Thorn asked Murtagh.

_She has a pass now. Nobody will give her trouble. The mini has a name by the way, _Murtagh replied.

_I know she has one. I just can't remember what it is,_ Thorn mumbled.

_It's Lilith,_ Murtagh told him.

_Lilith. Right,_ Thorn said. _You're avoiding my question. Why haven't you gone to see the elf?_

_I doubt she wants to see me as of now,_ Murtagh said with a mirthless laugh.

_Well, she should be more grateful for your help, and I don't think she was immune to whatever that was you were doing to her last night,_ Thorn remarked.

_Kissing,_ Murtagh muttered.

_She reacted to it, okay? Then again, being the cool, reserved creature that she is, I do have to agree with you: she won't want to see you,_ Thorn said.

_I realize that she reacted to it, but I don't understand why I did it in the first place,_ Murtagh said.

_You really don't?_ Thorn asked him. _Remember what happened in Dras Leona._

_I remember,_ Murtagh groaned.

_Good. I didn't think you could forget it, but you never know with you,_ Thorn said.

Murtagh chuckled. _I don't need to feel whatever it is I feel for her. _

_No, you don't,_ Thorn agreed.

_I suppose you know how it feels? _Murtagh asked.

_What do you mean?_ Thorn asked.

_You remember every single thing Saphira did when you fought,_ Murtagh said by way of explanation.

_I'm merely observant,_ Thorn said coolly.

_You sing her praises to the little green dragon. What's his name again?_

_Now you can't remember names? Oh gods, I'm rubbing off on you, _Thorn mumbled. _It's Eofor by the way, and I was not singing her praises. I was simply commenting on what a good idea it was to execute the particular maneuver while flying. _

_If you said that to Eofor, it was singing her praises. I know he annoys you,_ Murtagh said.

_Eofor's not bad. He's just young and untried. He doesn't understand how to live this life yet,_ Thorn explained.

_I'm glad you've come to that realization. I don't think he's nearly as bad as his rider,_ Murtagh said.

_Hathcyn doesn't seem that bad to me,_ Thorn said.

_Do you train with him?_ Murtagh asked.

_Point taken,_ Thorn said.

_Good night, dear dragon,_ Murtagh said.

_Good night, dear rider,_ Thorn said. There was a pause, and then Thorn said, _Since when do we talk to each other like this?_

_I don't know,_ Murtagh said. _I just felt like saying that._

_Good night, MURTAGH,_ Thorn said, severing their link.

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Arya put her head up as the little girl entered her cell for the second night. She took the potions without questions.  
"Thank you," she told the girl.

"You're welcome," Lilith said as she left the cell.

Arya had almost asked her why Murtagh hadn't come this time. She half wished he had and was half glad he hadn't. Oh, she was so confused. Maybe she hoped he'd heal her again? She knew it was wishful thinking, but she felt as though she needed healing again. Morgana had put hot embers on her back today, and the burns were exceedingly painful. She had to lie on her stomach to that reason.

But no. It wasn't just healing she wanted. What was it then? Did she want him to kiss her again? To lie with her again? She was in a dungeon! Why did she want that there? Then again, she thought, she had given herself to him on a table in Dras Leona. That facet of it made her feel filthy. The person who'd done it should have made her feel filthy too, but a part of her wouldn't let her feel that. Why was that? She couldn't be in love with this human traitor. She'd loved Fäolin. He'd been her mate. She couldn't replace him now, only two years after his death. She just couldn't. Not with Murtagh. Not with anyone. She'd just have to bear it alone. She shouldn't have tried to bear it with another for one night only. That had only made it worse. It had made her long for a human traitor.

But was Murtagh a traitor? Hadn't he tried to help in his own way?

She sighed and took the sleeping potion. She knew that tomorrow, torture could keep her from thinking of him. There was one benefit of it.

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_You killed us. It was your fault. You shouldn't have trusted him. You should have run while you could._

Hathcyn awoke panting. He knew who those people in his dream had been. They were those who'd died in the fire. He tried to shake the images of their burned faces from his mind. He tried to clear his nostrils of the smell of charred flesh. He tried to forget the feeling of smoke filling his lungs and cutting off his air. Eofor had been right. He just couldn't tell him that because of Galbatorix.

He got up off his bed and left the room. He needed to find some way to communicate with Eofor.

He was so deeply absorbed in plans that could never work that he bumped into someone that only came up to his waist.

He looked down and saw the little girl from infirmary picking herself up from the ground. She was carrying an empty sack.

"Are you alright?" he asked helping the child up.

She nodded. She felt in the sack. "Oh no, I broke some of them," she mumbled.

"Some of what?" Hathcyn asked.

"These medicine vials," she explained.

"I can fix them," Hathcyn offered. He figured it was the least he could do since he had been the one who had broken them.

Lilith watched closely as he used magic to repair the vials.

"Why are you awake?" he asked her.

"Why are _you_ awake?" she retorted.

"I had a nightmare," he said.

"Couldn't your dragon comfort you?" Lilith asked.

Hathcyn stared at her.

"Murtagh told me that Thorn can help him when he's upset," Lilith continued.

"I've been forbidden to speak with Eofor when the king is not present," Hathcyn admitted.

"I'm sorry," the girl said. She stared at the repaired vials. "I wish there was something I could do."

"There's nothing. We'll just have to wait until it blows over," Murtagh told her.

"Wait," Lilith said. "I could carry messages between you two."

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" Hathcyn asked.

"Oh, no one notices me," the girl said enthusiastically.

_I never thought I'd see someone so happy to be ignored,_ he thought. He shrugged and then said, "I suppose you can, but be careful."

"I will," she said. "Besides, you and your dragon can protect me."

Hathcyn almost laughed. She was such a young and little innocent thing. He'd been behaving like her when he'd first arrived here, he realized. He hadn't seen how terrible Galbatorix was despite what Eofor had said. Perhaps that was because the green dragon had lived as an egg in the palace for so long, where as he had been brought up to take whatever opportunity was given to him. It still didn't excuse him.

"We will both keep anything from happening to you," Hathcyn promised.

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Whoa. That was a really long chapter, but it wasn't very eventful. I'm surprised I wrote that much of a filler. Please review despite that. A chapter this long warrants reviews. I think enough things happened to warrant reviews. Next chapter, a lot more happens. Anyway, here are the review responses.

TheSummoningDark: Thanks. I think he's cute too.

Shara: Thanks. I'm glad I've made you like Murtagh/Arya. I agree that CP will never put this pairing in the books. Yeah, Arya's kinda weakened, and I suppose that's why she's having trouble resisting him. Then again, she did try. I'm glad you still like this. Eragon will find out what Murtagh and Arya did.

Prettybella: Thanks.

Treeonfire13: Yes, she is. Eventually. Something like what you suggested will happen, and I'm somewhat sure about how it will happen.

Famous4it: Yes. I hope you liked it.

ANGEL-OF-DEATH6: Yeah, Shakespeare is an awesome homeboy. I wanna read Hamlet. I'm glad you liked the Murtagh/Arya moment and that it seemed natural. I was worried it didn't. Eragon does annoy me too. He can be a bit dense and a bit too perfect. I'm glad you like Lilith, Eofor, and Hathcyn.

CaramelBoost: Thanks. I've tried to make her act like a normal five year old. Yeah, Morgana keeps getting worse and worse. I'm glad you like Eofor. As for Morgana, I know she wasn't in this chapter, but next chapter is the torture fest chapter. I swear.

Fredsonetrueluv: Yes, Murtagh/Arya angst rocks my socks. More things about Andizhan will be revealed. What do you mean, what's going on between Thorn and Eofor, by the way?

Maze2010: Thanks so much. I'm glad you loved that moment and the OCs. LOL. You confused me a bit too. I hope you like this update. Have you realized this is the first time in a long time I've updated during the day?

KewlKid: Thanks. I hope it keeps getting better.


	16. Mind Games

Mind Games

_From the moment we enter this live we are in the flow of it. We measure it and We mock it, but we cannot defy it. We cannot even speed it up or slow it down. Or can we? Have we not each experienced the sensation that a beautiful moment seemed to pass to quickly, and wished that we could make it linger? Or felt time slow on a dull day, and wished that we could speed things up a bit?_

_-Eisenheim in the Illusionist_

Disclaimer: I don't own Eragon and crew or the trick Brecca (a new OC) performs. Well, you'll see what it is next chapter, but it's alluded to in this one.

Eragon and Nasuada entered the council chambers. Elva ran in after them.

Everyone in the room went still as the last person entered.

"Does she have to be here?" Irwin asked.

"She has important information for us, milord," Nasuada said.

"What is it?" Orrin asked.

"I have found a way to communicate with a child in Urû'baen. She knows a lot, and she can tell us more," Elva explained.  
"Are you sure this is not a trap?" Jörmundur asked.

"Yes," Elva said.

"How?" the second-in-command asked.

"It's complicated. Only be sure that I can," Elva said.

Jörmundur looked at Nasuada.

"I trust her," she said.

Eragon nodded in agreement.

"This is ridiculous!" Irwin shouted. "She is but a child."

"You forget that she saved my life and has chosen to continue her curse in order to save others," Nasuada told him coldly.

"Your majesty," Irwin said, "ever since she has come here, she has gotten out of line far too many times. Now she asks us to trust a child's game when we know this could be a trap."

"It isn't a trap," Elva said quietly.

Eragon took a deep breath. "I must ask why you insist on insulting her. She had commanded the Varden well, and she has done you a great deal of good. You wouldn't have survived the Burning Plains if she hadn't been there."

"I have to agree with him," Jörmundur told him. "I will not stand for you to insult my leader even if you are the prime minister of Surda."

"Irwin, they are both right," Orrin said. "She has behaved in an unorthodox manner before, but it has never failed us. We will try this new thing. Perhaps your friend can get us information on the new rider?"

"I'll see," she said.

"How powerful do you think this new rider is?" Orrin asked.

"He didn't use magic to fight me, but he had enough to light an arrow on fire," Eragon said. "It might have been that he used up all his energy burning the place."

"Couldn't he have also been afraid to fight you?" Nasuada asked.

"That could be it," Eragon agreed. "There's something else. He looks like he has elf blood in him. It's made him fast."

"Elf blood?" Orrin echoed.

"That is ridiculous," Sabrae mumbled.

"It's what he said he saw," Nasuada said with a shrug.

"Are you quite sure that is what you saw?" Elessari asked Eragon.

The blue rider nodded. "His ears were pointed, and his face was a bit like Arya's. It was more humanized though."

"Oh, more humanized but elf-like?" Falberd asked with a laugh. Sabrae joined him.

"Must you laugh at your only hope?" Nasuada asked.

"You are out of line, all of you," Jörmundur yelled.

"Are we? Let's talk about you, Jörmundur," Sabrae hissed. She looked more like a beetle than ever.

"Quiet!" Orrin yelled, standing. "We cannot fight amongst ourselves."

"I agree with him," Nasuada said. "Jörmundur, Sabrae, sort out your misunderstandings in private."

The former looked slightly ashamed, and the second one looked positively venomous.

"So, what should we do about the new rider?" Eragon asked.

"If Galbatorix sends him alone again, do you think you could fight him?" Nasuada asked.

The blue rider nodded.

"And if he doesn't?" Jörmundur asked. "If the red rider is with the green one?"

Eragon took a deep breath. "I'll just have to be ready," he said.

"What about spellcasters?" Elva asked. "I could be beside him. Besides, don't you have magic yourself now, Lady Nasuada?"

Nasuada whirled around to face Elva. What had the girl been thinking, revealing that to the assembled group?

"Is this true?" Orrin asked.

"Sire, I did not think it wise to tell the world about something like this," Nausada said. "It has not become important, at least not yet."

"You mean you have not become powerful?" he asked.

She nodded. "Eragon is teaching me," she added, deciding that the damage had already been done.

"There is something else," Elva said. "The new rider is a half elf. Eragon was right. Also, said rider is rather angry at Galbatorix as of late. He's not such a willing servant anymore, and his dragon never was."

Everyone stared at her.

Elva stared back, her gaze clearly disconcerting to everyone present. "My friend told me. You'd be amazed at what children can find out these days." With that, the dragon-marked girl left the council chambers, laughing slightly.

Nasuada shivered. Even Elva's laugh was that of an adult's it just wasn't right. She glanced sideways at Eragon. He seemed to be thinking the same. He also seemed to be thinking that it was his entire fault.

**Okay, this part takes place about six weeks later. I decided to skip time because I need to get to the good stuff, and time needs to skip for everything to make sense. **

Hathcyn awoke early. He looked over at Morgana. She was still sleeping, her hair splayed over her face. She looked almost innocent, almost scared, for a brief moment. She wasn't. Everyone knew that. You just had to look at her awake to see that she was so far from innocent. Maybe she was scared? He didn't know. He wished he could ask Eofor. It was easier now that Lilith had agreed to pass messages between them, but it wasn't the same as direct mental contact.

He got up and looked around the room. Funnily enough, he'd never done that before. He noticed a large book lying open. He walked over to it slowly. It was ominous looking, if that was even possible in a book. He picked up the leather bound cover and read the title. It was called "Mind Games."

_Pleasant,_ he thought, giving a light snort. He glanced over his shoulder to see if Morgana was still asleep. He'd learned that she was possessive about her things. He'd usually just laugh her off, and she'd forgive him after being angry for a while. Something told him that her mood wouldn't blow over if she caught him with this book.

He looked at a knife lying next to the book. Its blade was clearly spelled, though for what purpose, he didn't know. He opened back to the page Morgana had left it opened to. It spoke about illusions. He turned to the next page. No. Wait. It wasn't the next page. The previous one had been page 100, and this one was page 103. They didn't look as though they were stuck together, but they had to be. He looked at the knife again. It was a book knife, he realized. Morgana must not have wanted people seeing parts of this book or the person who had given it to her hadn't wanted her to see certain parts of it. He wasn't sure which one, but the book knife must have been spelled to break spells. At least that was the only theory he could think of.

Well, it might be interesting to see what Morgana or the giver of the book was hiding. He took the knife and inserted it between the two pages. It came open, causing another two pages to unfold. He read the section title. It was "Mind Vault." He looked more closely. It seemed to be instructions to a spell to hide thoughts and memories. It seemed to go beyond the normal mind defenses. He'd have to look into this more later. But how? He couldn't just steal the book. He took the book knife and removed the page. To his surprise, only the two pages about the Mind Vault came out. Pages 100 and 103 were still intact.

"Wow," he mumbled, looking at the book knife. He was suddenly beginning to see a purpose for them.

He hid it among his clothes and shook Morgana's shoulder. She slapped him away. He climbed into the bed and positioned himself so that he was on top of her. He leaned in and whispered the words, "Get up," in her ear.  
She opened her eyes and pulled him down for a kiss.

After Hathcyn had left, Morgana dressed herself and went over to the book. Had it turned itself to the illusions page for a reason? She knew that at times it turned to a seemingly random page that would turn out to be quite useful for the user. Her father had given it to her with certain sections blocked off. She'd made the book knife to break through the spells. Her magic had never been very strong, at least not compared to Galbatorix's or Murtagh's, so she relied on tools to accomplish her goals. But the real question at hand was why it had turned to the illusions page. The answer came to her just then: Brecca.

She quickly left her rooms. She was up early, so she might as well get something done before she went to torture the elf.

This might be the turning point in the torture. Nothing she had done before had worked. She was sure seithr oil would convince her to tell them something. It hadn't done anything. The elf had suffered, but she hadn't broken, and she'd maintained her beauty despite her burns. That made Morgana hate her more. All her life she'd been told how beautiful she was, and now this elf was taking that over.

How could someone's beauty not fade under these conditions? True, she was scarred and terribly thin, but the elfish grace hadn't left her, and of course she'd be healed after it was all done.

How could somebody love a cause so much that they wouldn't give up all they knew just to make the pain stop? It didn't make sense. That was another reason Morgana couldn't stand the elf. She couldn't understand her, and what she couldn't understand, she hated and feared.

Then again, this illusion could change everything. She might find a way to break into her mind without having to turn to Galbatorix. She might be able to actually please him. The thought thrilled her. She stopped and looked down at her dress. It had been five years since she'd seen Brecca, and he might not recognize her. She needed him to recognize her, and what's more, she needed to appear to be a commoner.

She went back into her rooms and pulled out a simple green dress. It was perfect. It flattered her, but it didn't give away her ranking. It also resembled the dress she'd worn six years ago when she'd first met him.

As she walked through Urû'baen's streets, she wondered if he'd be there this early. He would. He liked to do shows early in the morning because people liked to have entertainment before they went to work.

Another thought went through her head. Would he still do the mirror trick? Of course he would. It had been everyone's favorite illusion. It had also been the way he'd met her. Maybe he wouldn't still do it because of that. But no. He was one of the few among her ex-lovers who didn't hate her. Besides, even if he didn't still do it, he wouldn't have forgotten how to.

She walked into the crowded theater. An old woman glared at her. Morgana supposed the old cat was angry at her for walking late. She smirked at her and took a seat near the front.

Brecca was standing on the stage. An ornate mirror was stationed before him. Morgana smiled slightly. He still did it.

"This next trick involves a phenomenon of what the mind really sees and what it thinks it sees, what death really is and what we perceive death to be. Perhaps there is a difference; perhaps there is not; and perhaps this little trick of mine will help you decide that. I am afraid that I will have to play favorites and give one of you the chance to witness this thing up close. What I am asking, ladies and gentleman, is that one of your number decides to place his or her life in my hands and test the boundaries of life and death and real and fake for themselves. So, who shall the brave soul be?"

Morgana stood before anyone else. Brecca looked at her. She smiled slightly. An expression of shock briefly crossed his handsomely relaxed features. Morgana's smile grew bigger. He knew her

"If the lovely lady in row seven has decided to place her safety in my hands, I cannot deny her the pleasure-filled risk of being my assistant for this trick. Please, miss, come grace the rest of us with your presence," Brecca said, regaining his cool.

Morgana flashed her teeth at him as she mounted the stage. He didn't just know her; he was glad to see her.

After the trick was done, Brecca announced the end of the show. She had been late indeed. Then again, perhaps she hadn't. Maybe Murtagh was right about her arrogance. She frowned. Thoughts of him had no place now.

"What displeases you, Morgana?" Brecca asked quietly. She turned to face him and smiled.

"Nothing," she said.

"Has anyone ever told you that you look like a tame wolf when you smile?" he asked.

"I've heard the wolf part but never the tame part," she said.

Brecca laughed. "Oh yes, forgive me. You look like a wild one."  
"How exactly am I supposed to take that?" she teased.

"Oh, it's a compliment for sure," Brecca said. He moved to help his stage hands move the mirror.

She followed him behind the curtain.

"I must ask you," he said after he finished putting away the mirror, "why you have returned after five years? When you stood up, I was instantly reminded of the fourteen year old girl who volunteered herself in my theater six years ago. Now I see that you've grown even lovelier since then and doubtlessly slyer."

"I need your assistance in a matter of great importance. It involves the mirror trick. You see, I think I know how you do it, at least to a certain extent, but I do not think I could perform the illusion quite as well as you could, and this illusion must be done perfectly," she explained.

"What is this? Some palace show to help whichever noble fathered you please his king?" Brecca asked.

Morgana shook her head. "I am asking you to use this to help me break into the mind of a prisoner."  
"What?" Brecca asked. Morgana smiled. This was the second time today she'd shocked him.

"There is an elf who knows things that the king needs to know," she said.

Brecca looked uneasy.

"And how would this help?" he asked.

"I'm assuming you've heard the expression "My life flashed before my eyes." It refers to death, correct?" she said.

Brecca nodded. "It's just a saying though." More unease had crept into his tone.

"I want you to help me simulate death to extract the memories of a life," Morgana said.

"But wouldn't it pass too quickly for you to discern anything?" Brecca asked.

"With everything the king knows, that will not matter," Morgana said.

Brecca seemed to consider this.

"You'll be paid well," she said.

"And nobody will find out about this? I'm sure those people out there would object to me using illusions to torture," Brecca said.

"Of course," Morgana said.

"Then you have yourself a deal," Brecca said. His careless expression returned as he shook her hand. "You're more Thaïs than ever."

"Deandra heard you call me that once, and she used it against me…once," Morgana told him.

"When?" Brecca asked.

"I had a secret that she had to pry out of me," Morgana said.

"What secret?" Brecca asked. He moved so that he was standing directly behind her.

"It's mine to know," Morgana said after a pause. She almost told him. Almost.

"Idrian," he yelled to an old and plump man who was standing there impatiently, "I have something to do. It'll make us more money than any show I've ever done."

"Brecca, you'd better be right," Idrian said.

"It's money, isn't it?" he asked.

Idrian chuckled slightly and then cleared his expression. "But you have another two shows to do today."

"This'll make more money than a show. It's not like we have to refund anyone. They all pay at the door," Brecca said.

Idrian didn't look mollified.

"You could do the tricks," Brecca suggested. "You know how I do everything."

"This lady thinks she can guess how you do them, and she might have guessed right, but nobody can create an illusion like you can. Besides, I'm not you. They won't like me like they like you," Idrian said, laughing genuinely this time.

"Asmodeus knows," Brecca said.

A skinny boy of about seventeen or eighteen came down from a rope draped around a rafter. Morgana's eyes widened slightly. She hadn't expected that. The boy grinned wickedly at her. She smiled back, looking slightly amused.

"Asmodeus?" Idrian asked.

Brecca shrugged. "I was his age when I started," he said.

"You were better looking," Morgana put in.

Brecca laughed.

Asmodeus glared at her. She smiled charmingly, and the boy dropped his glare.

"He's mute," Idrian protested.

"That's where your voice comes in," Brecca said. "You two can do this show until I come back."

Asmodeus nodded as though he agreed.

"That could work," Idrian said. "You'd better make a lot of money doing this torture trick."

Asmodeus' eyes widened.

"Life, boy," Morgana said with a shrug.

"Let's get to work, boy," Idrian said, clapping his hands.

"Let's see what you want me to do," Brecca said.

"Well…" Morgana said. They spent the way back to the palace discussing strategies.

"You say that your daughter is giving the prisoners potions to counteract yours?" Brecca said.

Morgana nodded. "If it was anyone else, I would have stopped them," she said. "I just can't hurt my child. She might turn out like me if she gets hurt. I don't want that."

"Is there something so bad about what you are?" Brecca asked.

"I don't know," she said. "Well, I suppose there is, but I can't change. I would be good if I could, but I can't."

"Do you think any of us would sin if it wasn't so tempting?" Brecca asked.

Morgana laughed. "Maybe I wouldn't change," she said.

"But you can't, so it matters little," Brecca said.

Morgana nodded, smiling ruefully. He was right as he always was.

"We'll do the trick tomorrow," he said. "I need to set up, and the elf needs to be tired. Find some way to stop the girl without hurting her."  
Morgana nodded. She'd do that.

"I can take away the key to the elf's cell," she said.

Arya sat up as Morgana came into her cell. The usual torturers were with her.

"You're late," she told Morgana. The woman slapped her.

"Did I say you could speak?" she hissed.

"You said you want answers," Arya said.

"That wasn't an answer," Morgana said, slapping her harder this time.

Arya decided not to say anything. Her jaw was beginning to hurt. She started laughing.

"Why are you laughing?" Morgana demanded.

Arya shook her head. She must be losing her mind. She was actually laughing at the fact that Morgana had managed to hurt every part of her. It was just so ridiculous how cruel and intolerant that woman was. It was just ridiculous that she hadn't broken. She didn't care. She was going to keep fighting as long as she could.

"Fifty lashes," Morgana said. "Do it here."

Arya screamed with her mind. She could not longer keep from screaming entirely. She just wasn't going to give Morgana the satisfaction of hearing it.

To her surprise, the woman asked her no questions and made no attempt to invade her mind. This must be preparation for some new torture, but Arya wasn't up to the challenge of determining what that could possibly be.

"Hm," Morgana said after the man finished. "Rack, do you think? I suppose you'll have to move her. Oh, dear that will hurt, won't it?"

Arya groaned. She wasn't sure if she could keep from screaming this time.

Okay, I'm gonna stop it there. Yes, I'm evil. I know. You'll find out what the trick is next chapter. I was going to put in this one, but it got too long, so I decided to put it in next chapter along with a lot of other things. There will be Murtagh/Arya next chapter. You'll find out about the book soon too. Anyway, here are the review responses.

Shara: Thanks. Sorry you got a little confused. I'm glad you're not anymore. I will still do a triangle. He's not over Arya yet, and he won't be before he finds out about Arya and Murtagh. He's just noticing Nasuada. I do think it could work because they have a lot in common. They're both young and compassionate. They're both orphans. They're both people who have been thrust into positions that they weren't expecting to be thrust into. I'm glad you like this story. You'll see what will happen to Arya.

Roguelane: I was wondering what happened to you. I'm sorry about your ankle. It sounds very painful. I'm glad you love Lilith. I will keep her cool. I guess the name has a little bit of reference to her fate, since it means of the night. Morgana named her that because she thought it was appropriate for an illegitimate child. She also can see ghosts, so I guess it sorta fits. Figured out who her father is? You should have by now. I'm glad you like Arya's struggle. Yes, they're beginning to love each other in their dysfunctional way. Eragon will find out. How do you think it should happen: should he see them together or should it be confessed accidentally? I'm glad you liked the Murtagh and Thorn conversation. I love writing those. That's really what it sounded like? I'm glad. I'm glad you like the Eragon/Nasuada stuff. Yeah, I don't like too many pairings with the witless wonder. I love that nickname for him. Yes, he is too much of a boy for Arya. I agree with you about Murtagh. He's a whole lotta man, and he will have a moment with Arya next chapter. I swear.

CaramelBoost: Well, the torture fest has started, and it will finish next chapter. Just wait until you see what she and Brecca do. Yeah, Morgana's pretty evil. I'm not sure if she's gonna find out about Lilith's powers actually. I think she'll keep it a secret. Hathcyn is learning. He's beginning to see evidence of Galbatorix's madness.

Beowulf-Cryptic: Thanks. I know the pairings odd, but I'm glad you still like it.

ANGEL-OF-DEATH6: Thanks. So, Lilith is you favorite OC? I'm glad. I hope you liked this chapter.

Rock Not War: That's okay. Glad you still like it.

Famous4it: Thanks. I liked writing it.

Fredsonetrueluv: Okay. It's fine. To tell you the truth, it kinda made me laugh. Hathcyn is starting to be good, but he's never gonna be perfect. He'll still the bit of pansy attitude. I'm glad you liked the scene. I thought it fit Eragon because he always tries to be honorable, and he doesn't have the world's biggest amount of tact. I will put more about Nasuada's powers in the next chapter.

LoNnI: Yeah, I do. It's an interesting pairing, but it works.

TheSummoningDark: I wouldn't mind if it became canon. That would be an interesting twist. I don't think Paolini will do it. He wants Eragon and Arya to be together, but I'm just not feeling it. I hope realizes that they don't work and puts Eragon with somebody else. I hope you like how I've brought Elva into play. No, my Medea is not at all like the title character in that play. That is where I got the name though. Well, I got it from the character in Greek mythology, but the play is based on the myth, so yeah.

Maze2010: It's okay. I confuse people too. What Arya feels for Murtagh is a lot of lust, but it's beginning to be love too. It's the same thing with his feelings for her.


	17. Looks like Death

Looks like Death

_If it looks like a skunk and smells like a skunk, it probably is a skunk._

_-I don't know who said it_

Disclaimer: Don't own. Don't sue. Thank you. The trick is from "The Illusionist." I tweaked it a bit and made it more macabre, but it's still pretty much their idea.

Andizhan got up out of her bed in the infirmary. Deandra had convinced Galbatorix that she needed time to recover, and he'd let her. Just yesterday, she had finally regained the strength to walk. She lit a candle and walked out of the infirmary next. She wasn't sure she'd be allowed to do so, but how could she leave? It wasn't as though she could get all the way to Surda.

She slowly made her way down the corridors, occasionally stopping to lean against a wall to regain her strength. She heard voice at one of the doors she stopped against, so she stayed to listen.

"Do you need a specific kind of mirror?" a woman asked.

"Any will do. I'd prefer full-length," a male replied. "It works best if she can see entire self."

"Alright," the woman said. "Do you need anything else?"  
"No," the man said.

"Why not?" she asked. "Surely you'll need the things you've used to sustain the illusion before."  
"Morgana, I thought you said you knew how it was done," the man said with a laugh.

The woman, presumably Morgana, said, "I thought I did. Now I'm not so sure. How can you sustain an illusion with nothing?"

"That wasn't part of our bargain, dear," the man said.

There was a pause. "You can use magic," the woman said.

"Well guessed," he remarked. "I use a few tools to make up for what I can't do, but I do have a small gift."

There was another, even longer pause.

"Don't tell him," the man said.

"How am I supposed to do that?" she snapped.

"You're clever. Can't you think of something?" the man asked.

"I do have something that would work. Be thankful that I'm using it," Morgana said.

"I will be. You just be grateful that I took off work to come here," he said.

"I will be," Morgana said.

"Now that that's settled, do you have a black cloak? We need to keep her from seeing out of the corners of her eyes," the man said.

"I have one," Morgana said as though the argument hadn't just happened.

"Good," the man said. "She isn't sleeping, correct?"

"I have to go get the keys," Morgana said, opening the door. She saw Andizhan standing in the hall way.

"YOU!" she screamed, her face contorting with rage. "Who are you and why are you eavesdropping?"  
"I wasn't," Andizhan said calmly. "I'm just a sick old woman who happened to be passing by."

Morgana looked at her angrily. "I doubt that," she said. "Tell no one of what you have heard."

"Was it that important?" she asked.

Morgana slapped her. The man grabbed her wrist.

"Calm down, Thaïs," he said. "She won't say anything. You've scared her too much."  
"She doesn't look scared," Morgana hissed.

"She does to me," the man said. "Now, go on your way and tell no one. Can you do that?"  
"Tell no one what?" Andizhan asked, grinning slightly. She left the two alone and made her way back to the infirmary.

"See what I mean, Morgana?" Brecca asked.

"Actually, I do," she conceded.

"Decent," he said. "Can't have you beating up on old people. Traitorous elves, maybe, but old people is pushing it."

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Lilith got up from her bed and left the small room Deandra had given her. Her pack was once again stocked with the antidotes and sleeping potions, and she was carrying her key ring and pass in her other hand. She froze when a figure moved into the corridor. She only became slightly less tense when she saw that the figure was Morgana. She said nothing.

"Lilith," Morgana whispered. She didn't sound angry, just urgent. "I need the key to the elf's cell."

"Why?" the girl asked.

"I know what you've been doing these past few weeks, and I've let it go. I don't care to whom you give those antidotes, just don't give them to the elf," Morgana answered.

Lilith handed her the key ring.

"Thank you," Morgana said as she removed the key. She gave her daughter a quick hug and then left as quickly as she had come. She knew she needn't worry about Lilith getting another key somehow. Murtagh was away to participate in guerilla attacks against the Varden and to defend attacks against them as he had been for weeks. Hathcyn had just left that night to go to Feinster and attack the base there. Deandra was too busy healing to participate in her minor insubordinations. No, it would all go as planned.

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Miles away in Surda, Nasuada awoke from another dream from her mother.

She got out of bed immediately and splashed cold water on her face.

"Milady, what is it?" Farica asked.

"I'm sorry to have awoken you," Nasuada told her maid. She hadn't meant to be so loud.

"It's fine, but what's wrong?" she asked.

"I-I don't know," Nasuada said. "I just had a dream. I think it had something to do with what's happening to Arya."

"Well, it's not as though you can do anything about it. Eragon's the only one who can save her, and he's had to go away for weeks for those stupid outbursts. Ever since they attacked the base at Furnost…"

"I know, Farica," Nasuada said. "It just doesn't make it any better."

"Just go back to sleep. You can't help the Varden if you don't sleep," Farica told her.

Nasuada nodded and went back to sleep. Farica was right as usual.

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Eragon landed on Saphira in Aberon.

_Why wasn't he there? _Eragon asked Saphira.

_I don't know, little one,_ the blue dragon said. _I smelt Thorn around the battle sights, but I think he left before we came there. _

_It doesn't make sense. It seemed like during these past few weeks one of us has been chasing or running from the other,_ Eragon said.

_It could be that neither one of you wants to capture the other,_ Saphira said.

_Arya needs to be avenged, Saphira,_ Eragon said. _We need to leave soon. I'm going to take Solembum's advice, get my weapon from the under the Menoa Tree, and go get her out of Urû'baen. I'll tell Nasuada. She's getting stronger. We can go soon. _

_Eragon,_ Saphira sighed, _do you really think getting your weapon will be that easy?_

_I can't let Arya rot in Urû'baen!_ he shouted.

_We won't,_ Saphira said. _Do you think you need your true name to get your weapon as well as to open the Vault? _

_Maybe,_ Eragon said.

_Even if that doesn't work, the sword from the Varden has served you well, _Saphira added.

_I don't know my true name though._

_That would bring us back to my second comment. _

_Do you think Nasuada would know?  
She seems to know a lot about the Ancient Language these days, _Saphira agreed.

_She could be very powerful,_ Eragon agreed. _I hope the others don't try to use her. Elva said she told the council because she wanted them to respect her, but…_

_She is strong,_ Saphira said. _She won't let them use her. _

_You're right,_ Eragon conceded.

_Let's go see Nasuada now,_ Saphira said.

Eragon smiled slightly. Saphira always seemed to know how to calm him down.

"Eragon," Nasuada said as soon as he entered the courtyard. She'd clearly been waiting for him. "I had a dream last night. It was through Andizhan's eyes again. Two other people were in it. One was a man, and the other was a woman named Morgana. They were talking about something. I think it was about Arya. They were planning something that sounded like torture. I don't understand it."

Eragon froze. "But was it happening then? Besides, Elva said that Lilith was giving her potions to make her sleep. If she can sleep, I know she's strong enough," Eragon said, trying to believe it. Arya was too strong, too good, and too pure. She wouldn't fall. She just wouldn't. That was what he had to believe.

"She wasn't able to give it to her last night," Elva said. "Her mother took the key to Arya's cell. Murtagh and Hathcyn—that's the new rider's name—are gone. They can't get her keys. She almost went to disobey her mother and try to get a key from the guards. I told her not to."  
"Why?" Eragon asked.

"She's five," Elva said. "Her mother is cruel from what I've heard and what I've heard is from Lilith. Morgana is probably a hundred times worse than that."

Eragon opened his mouth to say something, but Nasuada stopped him by placing a hand on his arm.

"She's the only friend I have," Elva said. She looked almost her age as she made that statement. She then regained her usual look.

"You'll need to help her soon. She's strong, but how strong?" Elva said. She left the room.

"I wish Angela weren't so busy," Nasuada said. "Greta seems to let her go too often." She paused and then turned to Eragon.

"Am I strong enough to scry?" she asked him.

"Yes," he said after a moment's pause. "The words are…"  
"Draumr kópa, I know," Nasuada said.

Eragon looked puzzled. She did this often. He'd tell her to cast a spell, and the words would come to her randomly. It was almost unnerving. If it had been power in the hands anyone other than Nasuada, it would have been frightening. At least it was only the words now. She still had to learn to manage her energy and such. She still had to work on small tasks. A part of him was relieved that she wasn't becoming too powerful too easily, and another part of him hated to see her struggle.

Nasuada reached over and pulled out a vial of silver liquid.  
"You had the words hórnya to the incantation to allow yourself to hear, correct?" she asked.

Eragon nodded.

Nasuada poured the liquid into a bowl and watched as it swirled around and stilled to a halt.

"Draumr kópa un hórnya," she whispered.

The liquid swirled a bit more. Eragon put a hand on her shoulder to help her sustain the spell.

"I'm fine," she said.  
Eragon removed his hand and looked over her shoulder. He'd give her more magic if she needed it. He could feel waves of confusion radiating off of Saphira the entire time.

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Arya put up her head as Morgana and the guards entered her cell.

"Did you enjoy your lack of sleep?" the woman asked.

"Very much so," Arya rasped, trying to sound as venomous as she could.

Morgana raised her eyebrows.

"Take her upstairs," Morgana ordered. "Better yet, see if she can walk."  
The guards stood back. Arya managed to pull herself up off the cot. She staggered to the door, gripping the edge of the door.

"She's cheating. That's not good," Morgana remarked. "Oh dear, I'm afraid you'll have to drag her."

Arya glared at Morgana until she felt herself being pulled off her feet. One of the guards was holding her by the ankle. So, she really was going to be dragged. She winced in pain. The joints of her legs were incredibly sore from yesterday's racking. At least her arms were being spared. She managed to keep them at her sides so that she didn't have to suffer the pain of having them above her head.

She passed out at least once while being dragged and had to have vinegar put into her eyes. She at last looked up and saw that she was in the middle of a room. An ornate mirror stood before her. She looked up at it. A tall man strode in through the door.

"Half breed," she rasped.

"Dear, dear, Morgana, you've driven her mad," the man said.

"What did she say, Brecca?" Morgana asked.

"Mad ramblings," he said. "Now, let's get down to business."

"I said…" Arya began.

"Sh," Brecca ordered. "No negotiating. Just relax your mind."

Arya thought this was a ridiculous statement considering the present state, but something about his voice made her become less tense. He was hypnotizing her somehow. A small part of her realized it immediately.

"Look into the mirror," the voice said. Arya felt a chill run through her, especially around her face. She stood and felt a cloak being wrapped around her shoulders. She pulled it up as high as she could to ward the chill off of her face.

"What does it mean to die?" Brecca asked softly. "What does it feel like to feel the life sucked out of you? What is death? When do we die? Can the heart die and the body remain, or can the body remain and the heart die? Who knows but the dead?"  
Arya stared into the mirror.

"What is a reflection?" Brecca asked. "Is it just a blend of light, or can it be something more?"

"Bow," Morgana's voice ordered. The trance lightened somewhat. She saw Brecca throw Morgana a reproachful glance.

Arya did as she was told as she felt a whip crack across her back. Her reflection did not bow.

"It would seem as though it might have a life of its own," Brecca remarked. "Perhaps there is some truth in the tale that reflection is the body's soul trapped in the glass until we look away. Perhaps you really can die from looking in a mirror too long."  
Nasuada and Eragon both saw Brecca nod to Morgana, but Arya did not. She only saw the young woman moving behind her, holding a drawn sword. She gasped as a wave of pain went through her back, her insides, and finally her stomach. The mirror showed that she had been run through the back. The reflection fell, and Arya felt herself falling with it. Her breathing became labored.

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Nasuada and Eragon could see that she hadn't really been stabbed. They could see that Morgana was uttering some kind of incantation to make her feel as though she had been.

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"What is death?" Brecca asked. "Can you feel the life leaving your body?"  
As soon as he said that, a white mist moved from the fallen reflection. Arya felt it pass over her.

"Has your soul rejected you?" Brecca asked.

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"You're not dead!" Eragon yelled to her.

Nasuada began to feel very weak. Eragon didn't notice.

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Arya could see every memory of everything that had ever happened to her flashing before her.

Her mother tossing her into the air. Her first kiss. Her first victory in sparring. Her first victory in magic. The meeting with Brom that had changed everything. Riding away with Fäolin and Glenwing, the words of her mother's rejection still ringing in her ears and the pain of the newly applied tattoo still burning in her shoulder. The first night she'd been with Fäolin. Every memory of every ride between the Varden and Du Weldenvarden, all jumbled together. The egg. Durza. The capture. The pain. Eragon appearing in her cell. The figure of another man appearing behind him. Murtagh. Testing Eragon. Before the battle. Murtagh's brief wish of good luck. Her own brief reply. Breaking Isidar Mithrim. Killing the shade. Witnessing a dragon breathe fire for the first time. Watching Eragon take his revenge. Watching him avenge her. Taking him to Ellesméra. Rejecting him there through the flower, the fairth, and the confession. The Battle of the Burning Plains. The revelation of Eragon's true heritage. Watching Hrothgar's funeral and Orik's coronation. Going to Dras Leona. Men. Stench. Ale. Murtagh. His lips and hands where they shouldn't be. Where she let them be. Her own body matching his. Falling. Rising. Taking the egg. The battle. The capture. The torture. Murtagh healing her. More torture. Lilith helping her. Murtagh kissing her. Lilith coming again and again to give her those same two potions as though it was all she could do. The stabbing. Her death. That was what it was. She was dead. It was time to join those who had gone on.

The door slammed open.

"Morgana, what are you doing?" It was Murtagh. "You're not to let her die!"

Arya opened her eyes. The reflection was of her frightened face. She had been tricked. She wasn't dead, but she had failed. The knowledge hit her like a rock as she descended into the first tears she'd cried in years.

"She's all yours, Murtagh," Morgana said scornfully as she left the room. Brecca and the guards followed.

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Nasuada fainted just then. Eragon caught her as the image vanished. Arya was alive.

He pulled Nasuada to his chest and listened for her breathing. He heard it. He set her down and poured some water on her face. Her eyes flickered open.

"I feel weak," she murmured.

"You need to eat," Eragon said after a moment's thought.

She nodded and got up. She walked over to her desk and pulled out a tin.

"I never know when I might need a snack," she said as she noticed Eragon's look. She gave up propriety and devoured the biscuit she'd pulled out of the tin.

Eragon thought about what he'd just seen. They'd gotten everything out of Arya. He knew that was why she'd cried. He wondered briefly if they could make anything of it but dropped the thought as he turned to thinking of her well-being. He remembered Elva saying they wouldn't kill her after that, but it offered him little solace. He should have rescued her sooner. This was his fault. He was supposed to love Arya. He did love her. He started crying.

Nasuada put an arm around his shoulder.  
"At least she's not dead," she comforted. Eragon stopped crying and looked up.

"We failed her," he said.

"Eragon, she was captured and taken to the king. You couldn't risk your life going there when we needed you here. You've served us well. Don't blame yourself," Nasuada said.

Eragon just stared at her.

"They got everything, didn't they?" she asked tentatively.

"I think so," he said. "It would probably be jumbled because of the state her mind must have been in, but I don't think they would have done that if they didn't think it would work. Then again, who knows?"  
Nasuada looked at him. Eragon knew she was thinking the same thing he was. Arya had cried. She wouldn't have done that unless she'd failed.

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Okay. I'm a bad person. I promised you guys a Murtagh/Arya scene this chapter, but it got too long. It will be there first thing next chapter. Hey, at least I got you guys a quick update. Review as you always do. Thanks. Here are the review responses.

Stripysockz: Well, you saw what it was. Did you like it? I'm glad you feel sorry for Arya. Everything's just gotten worse for her. Hathcyn is indeed an idiot for messing around with Morgana, but he's gotta learn. Elva is so much smarter than most everybody, it's not even funny. I agree with you about the Eragon thing.

TheSummoningDark: That will be a scene I will secretly relish writing. Well, it won't be secretive now that I've told you, but oh well. Of course, I'll have to make it serious, and I can't have him faint. I'm considering several things, but we'll cross that bridge when we come to it. I might write a parody of the scene where Eragon finds out.

Famous4it: I'm glad you think so.

Shara: Yeah, the stories will all tie in. Yes, he did sleep with her. Sorry I wasn't more specific. I just don't wanna overdo the rating. I hope you liked this little act. I also put in some of Eragon's concern for Arya. He just had so much on his mind that he couldn't think about her.

ANGEL-OF-DEATH6: Wow. I made you pity her. You're right about her too. She's horrible, but it's not entirely her fault. I'm glad you like the OCs. Well, who can't love a five year old, you know? I hope you liked what happened next.

Fredsonetrueluv: Hey, I feel like I'm betraying my Murtagh x Nasuada fan-ness by writing it, but I just love writing it. Yeah, they were pretty harsh. Elva spilled the secret to make them respect Nasuada more and because she thought they were all being idiots. I'm glad you liked the laugh description. Hathcyn will begin to fight soon. I wasn't going for slash, but wouldn't that have been like in Legally Blonde 2 where both dogs turn out to be gay? I'm sorry. That was random. I just loved the scene.

Roguelane: Murtagh was being sent away to fight with the Varden, and he came back just in time to stop Arya from giving up and dying. Elva and Lilith will interact more in the future. Hmm. I could see him falling for the How I met Your Mother thing very easily. If only there was TV in Alagaësia. Oh, the possibilities. Yeah, I like catch them together too. Nasuada might get it from simple interactions, but it would probably go right over the witless, love-struck, and deluded wonder. The orgasm thing might be overdoing it. LOL. I'll figure it out. I hope you liked the mirror trick, and Murtagh at least saved her from death.

Maze2010: Well, I'm a bit scatterbrained at times. LOL. Well, there was some magic in this chapter. Yes, Brecca's the dad. Everyone should have guessed that. Happy late birthday.

LoNnI: There will be next chapter. Trust me. Everyone here has a right to beat me with a stick if there is none in the next chapter. There will be though. It'll the first thing dealt with.

CaramelBoost: Yes, and this chapter had another slight one. Yeah, I think Morgana goes between seeming inhuman and human. She's interesting to write. I hope you liked this torture fest. Brecca is Lilith's dad, not Murtagh. God, this is like Jerry Springer or a Soap Opera. This one was plenty torture-y. At least I hope you think so. Eragon has started pining again. He just had a lot on his mind and got distracted. Now, he's back on track. I totally agree with your statement by the way. There will be somewhat of a love triangle, maybe even a love square. That's when you know it's a Soap Opera. Eh. Who cares? Elva is getting more concerned. She just doesn't show affection well. Eragon can be blamed for many things, including world hunger. No, I haven't worked that one out yet, but who cares? The sad thing about Brecca is that he gets it, but he's so superficial, he doesn't care. Jeez. No wonder he was with Morgana. He does need a time out. I like long reviews, by the way. Thanks so much.

Treeonfire13: Wow. That was a really great compliment. Thanks. Murtagh was briefly in this chapter. I wish I could have put more of him in, but he will be in the next chapter a lot. I couldn't let my current book guy obsession get out of this story for too long. I think I will use the "accidentally sees them together thing." This update came sooner than I expected to post it.


	18. Tears

Tears

_Just let me hold you while you're falling apart  
Just let me hold you and we'll both fall down  
Fall on me  
Tell me everything you want me to be  
Forever with you forever in me  
Ever the same_

_-Rob Thomas in Ever the Same_

Disclaimer: Don't own. Don't sue. Thank you.

The image of Morgana's face expression as she had left the room was fixed in Arya's mind. Those cold dark eyes were alit with a completely different expression. It was one of fervent, almost insane, triumph. It said that she the winner in this struggle of nearly two months. Arya had held her off for too long, and now she was victorious. Morgana had won, and Arya had lost. It was so mind-numbingly simple Arya couldn't just let it go. She wanted to stop crying, but she just couldn't. She kept muttering the words, "I have failed. I have failed."

She felt warm arms wrap around her cold, terribly thin figure. They pulled her into an embrace.

"You held out for so long," Murtagh whispered. "You couldn't have won. Galbatorix would have probed you if you had succeeded against Morgana, and nobody could stand against him."

Arya shook her head. The tears were still falling down her face, soaking her cheeks and his shirt. She felt ashamed that she couldn't stop crying on him. She felt so weak, so broken, and so scared.

"They can't forgive me. I've betrayed them. They'll fall, and it will be my fault," she whispered.

"You didn't give it up. You held out against incredible odds for too long," Murtagh told her. "You're one of the few who's left that forest for the past century. You've done more than all of them put together. Now, stop it." One of his arms had slid from her shoulders to her waist, and the other was caressing her back. She liked the feeling of it even though she knew she shouldn't. She should push him away and dry her tears, but she couldn't. She just couldn't. All her will had dissolved, so she just sunk deeper into his arms.

"My mother was right," she said. "I've only caused trouble for my race. I lost the egg."

"You still kept it from the shade, and it hatched for Eragon because of that," Murtahg remarked.

"I got captured by the shade," she said.

"He was a shade," Murtagh remarked.

"Eragon killed him," she said. "I should have killed him."

"He couldn't have killed him without you and Saphira."

"I lost the green egg, and it hatched for that half elf."  
"That was my fault."

She punched him in the chest. He held her tightly and let her do as she wished. She continued to pummel him through her tears. She felt a jolt of pain shoot up her partially disjointed shoulders, and she gasped in pain.

"Calm down," Murtagh said soothingly. His hand moved from her back to her hair. In her state, she still managed to feel slightly ashamed of the fact that it was dirty. She didn't want him touching it like that. Somehow, the fact that she liked him holding her and cared how she looked around him made her cry more. She wasn't sure what made her throw up, but she retched uncontrollably, Murtagh's left hand on her stomach to support her and his right hand on the back of her neck to pull her hair away from her face.

"I'll get you healed," he murmured.

A new flash of pain split across her legs as he stood with her. She felt herself falling. Murtagh caught her and lifted her off the ground just as she slipped out of consciousness.

The red rider looked down at the unconscious elf as he laid her on his bed. Why was he being so tender with her, letting her cry on him, and holding her? It was strange to him. He wouldn't have normally done that. Perhaps it was because he felt guilty. Perhaps he blamed himself for what had happened to her.

_Perhaps…_Thorn said.

_Perhaps what?_ Murtagh asked.

_Perhaps…oh never mind. You can figure it out yourself,_ the red dragon said.

_Thorn, tell me!_ Murtagh demanded.

_But you need to learn,_ Thorn continued.

_Please,_ Murtagh said.

_You won't like it, _Thorn said. He seemed to be enjoying this.

_Thorn, what is it?_ Murtagh asked.

_I'm not your feeling analyzer. Figure it out yourself,_ Thorn said.

_Forget it,_ Murtagh said. _Just help me heal her. _

He turned her from her side to her back and unlaced the back of her shirt. He decided he might as well let her keep her modesty for as long as he could. She would probably be angry at him as soon as she woke up and regained her strength.

He slid her shirt off and placed his hands on her shoulders. He needed to fix the damage the rack had done first. He thought carefully about the words he would need to use to reset her shoulders. He found them and melded his strength with Thorn to heal her. He finished, feeling slightly weary and moved on to her elbows. Once they were healed, he moved down her hips, sliding her pants off and knowing she would kill him for this when she woke up. Then again, he could simply tell her to shut up and be grateful and wait to see if she had a response for that. Or he could tell her to stop being so proud.

_This is sad,_ Thorn remarked. _You're thinking up arguments with her before they happen. _

_Shut up,_ Murtagh told him.

_It's true,_ Thorn said, _and rather obvious._

_If it's rather obvious, why must you state it?_ Murtagh retorted.

_I must state it because you are being so damn hard-headed I could drop you off a cliff and not kill you,_ Thorn said.

_Oh, ha ha,_ Murtagh said.

_I am funny, aren't I?_ Thorn asked.

Murtagh acknowledged that and placed his hands on either of her hips, turning her over to better fix her.

_And get a better view,_ Thorn teased.

_I am trying to concentrate,_ Murtagh growled.

He felt rather weak by the time he'd reset and healed the joints in her hips and knees, so he decided he might as well take a break and eat.

He noticed Arya was shivering, so he pulled the blankets over her. He wondered briefly how long it would take her to wake up. He hoped it wasn't too soon. She needed more healing, and he didn't fancy her arguing with him as he healed her.

_You're way past fancying. You're craving,_ Thorn said.

_What?_ Murtagh asked.

_You like arguing with her,_ Thorn said. _That is just strange. _

_I'll chose to ignore that,_ Murtagh said.

_Perhaps because you have no answer,_ Thorn said. _I also must add that this had better not be the reason you fight with Morgana. _

Murtagh's eyes narrowed at the mention of her name.

_It's different with her,_ he said. _I've been over her for years. _

_I overstepped, didn't I?_ Thorn asked.

_You're my dragon. It's fine,_ Murtagh said.

_Well, you and the elf don't actually insult each other when you fight, and neither of you scream, so I suppose you don't fight her like you fight Morgana,_ Thorn said.

Murtagh nodded and left the room, closing the door and locking it so that she couldn't get away. Galbatorix would kill him if that happened. He'd get food from the kitchens, he supposed.

Arya awoke slowly. Most of her body still hurt, but her joints felt better. She could move them without hurting, and she supposed she could walk normally. She pushed off the blankets and got up. That was when the questions hit her. First of all, why was she naked? She answered the fairly quickly. Somebody had started to heal and probably been so tired they'd had to take a break. The answer to the second question—who had healed her?—was probably Murtagh. She wasn't quite sure where she was, but she assumed it was either Murtagh's room or some infirmary. She looked around the room. It was definitely a bedroom. She looked for some clothes. Maybe she could get out of hear. She paused at the dresser that was ridiculous. She was covered in scars, bruises, cuts, and burns; she would probably only find men's clothing in this room, and she still had no magic. Those manacles which Murtagh had used to bind her wrists seemed to stop the flow of magic more effectively than any drug. Each spelled link seemed to work into her blood stream and cut off a different branch of her magic. They probably had so many different keys. She threw herself on the bed and gasped in pain, biting her lip until it bled. It still hurt. Oh, why did it matter? Nobody was here to hear her scream. She let it out and retched over the bed again. Murtagh would probably be angry about that. He hadn't minded her vomiting over all over the floor in the torture chambers, but that was different. Then again, he had been uncharacteristically tender with her just then. It would probably end soon.

She closed her eyes, pulled up the covers, and was drifting into a semi-pleasant sleep just as soon as the door opened. She stared at Murtagh, who had just entered the room, through half-lidded eyes.

"I was just getting to sleep. Did you have to wake me up?" she groaned.

Murtagh stared at her for just a moment before he said, "Gratitude, vanyali. I think you seem to lack it. I just started healing you and wasted a great deal of energy doing it. I'm here to finish. I'm sure you'll sleep better if you don't scream every time you lay yourself down."

Arya sighed. He was right, and she had been too. His tenderness had vanished. She wondered if she'd dreamed that. She bit her lip on the spot where she'd bitten it before and whimpered. She shouldn't be imagining him better than he was.

"You were behaving very differently an hour ago," Murtagh remarked as he sat down beside her.

Perhaps she hadn't dreamed it.

"Turn over," he ordered.

She did as she was told, moving the covers just enough so that he could see her back, and said, "You changed too. You were actually kind-hearted."  
"You showed emotion," he said.

Arya felt tears spring to her eyes and held them back. Now she was crying because of this? What was wrong with her?  
Murtagh put his hand on her spine and stared at her.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"Maybe it's because you seem to think I can't feel anything when it's perfectly obvious that I can. I simply chose not to wear my heart on my sleeve," she said steadily, sighing in relief as healing magic rippled over the large burn on her lower back.

"I don't wear my heart on my sleeve either, vanyali," he muttered. He moved his hand to a burn on her hip and mumbled, "Waíse heil."

She felt contentment and excitement spread over her at the same time the moment her touched her. She frowned. This was not what she needed right now.

"There's another problem. You call me by a name bestowed on my race by a rival race when you know my name," Arya said.

"Well, I'm sorry about that. I simply like to call you that. Besides, how many other elves do I know?" he said, moving his hand to the burn on her shoulder blades.

"None, I suppose," she said. "Please, don't tell me it's a form of affection though."

Murtagh paused for a moment, allowing his hand to move to her side and down to a burn on her outer thigh. She shivered slightly before regaining control.

"I wouldn't say affection," he said.

"Then what would say?" she asked. "Insult?"

"No," he said. "Must I explain my ever action to you?"  
"No," she said. "Call me as you like, I suppose."

He chuckled slightly. His hand moved to her knee and healed the burn there. It took him almost a minute because of the size. He moved to her other knee.

"What did she do to you?" he asked.

"Embers and seithr oil," Arya said shortly.

"I'm sorry. I suppose you don't want to talk about it."

"Not really."  
"She can be very cruel."  
"I noticed."

"Yes, I suppose you did."

He turned her over abruptly after he was done. "You're burned on the front too?" he asked, looking down.

Arya nodded. "You could have asked me to turn over."  
"It goes more quickly this way," he mumbled, placing a hand on her right breast. She winced and then gulped. Was he intentionally caressing her as he healed her?

He put a hand on her stomach. Arya gasped. That had been a particularly bad scream.

"You have my permission to scream," Murtagh remarked.

"I don't need it," Arya snapped.

"Then scream. I know this hurts," Murtagh told her.

Arya shook her head. "I don't need to anymore."  
"You're biting your lip," he remarked.

She let out a noise that was somewhere between a scream and a moan. It turned into a sigh as the burn vanished after two minutes.

"How are you so powerful? You've only had magic for a while."  
Murtagh stared at her. She stared back. He blinked after about a minute.  
"I suppose you should never enter a staring contest with an elf," he said with a slight laugh. She laughed a little too.

"How?" she repeated.

"It's not mine to say," Murtagh said. "It's rather sadistic."  
"What?" she asked, balancing herself on her elbows to press closer to him. He wasn't immune to her. Not completely. Murtagh opened his mouth, and her eyes widened slightly. He was going to tell her Galbatorix's secret.

He leaned over, putting his face very close to hers and whispered, "I'm being nice enough to you now and much too nice for his taste. Don't make me tell you anything I would regret."  
Arya slumped back and winced again. He'd almost told her. That was one good thing.

He pulled himself away from her and looked down.

"The burns are healed," he said. "I'll get us some food and heal the rest of you."

"May I have some clothes?" she asked.

"You'll just bleed all over them, and you'll have to take them off to have me heal them. That will hurt you," he told her.

"I've bled all over your bed," she remarked.

"That's not hurting you, is it?" he asked.

She rolled her eyes.

"Are you asking me in your own subtle way if I like looking at you?" he asked, coming closer again.

"I'm simply trying to find out what you're like," she said.

"I'm you," he told her.

She laughed. "No, you're not. You'd be an elf and a female if that were true."  
"Did an elf just make a joke a human could understand?" he asked.

She raised an eyebrow. "I suppose," she admitted. "Now, you haven't answered my question."  
"You're very proud," he remarked.

"As are you," she retorted.

"Do you think it a flaw?" he asked, his hand going to her face.

"It depends," she said, feeling herself leaning into his touch.

He leaned forward, and she put a finger to his lips.

"Weren't you getting food?" she asked.

He dropped his eyes and laughed shortly and somewhat mirthlessly. "Yes, I was," he said.

She watched him leave the room.

_Murtagh, she's playing you!_ Thorn said, sounding somewhere between amused and indignant.

_Don't remind me,_ Murtagh said. _Why does she do this? She acts like she's responding, and then she pulls away. _

_It could have something to do with the fact that she's still hurt,_ Thorn said.

_If that were it,_ _she wouldn't even try to lead me on,_ he said.

_Maybe she's umm…what's the phrase…unable to resist your charm?_ Thorn said, barely fighting a laugh.

_Stop it,_ Murtagh said.

_I don't know. Maybe she was a one-time deal?_ Thorn asked. The red dragon clearly had no intention of letting this go.

_Nothing happened!_ Murtagh yelled. _Let's just drop it. _

_Party-pooper,_ Thorn teased.

Murtagh groaned and went down the kitchens again.

Arya had fallen asleep again and was awoken by Murtagh reentering the room again.

"Here," he said, handing her a loaf of bread and some soup. They both ate in utter silence, though Arya glance at Murtagh occasionally, trying to gage what he was thinking.

When they were both done, Murtagh got up from the large arm chair and said, "Turn over." Arya put down her bowl and did as she was told.

He placed a hand on the base of her spine and began to heal all her other injuries

"Thank you," she said once he was done. That healing had taken nearly two hours.

"You're welcome."

"What do I do now?"

"Well, I think I need food again. You could either go to sleep or bathe."

"Where do I bathe?" she asked.

Murtagh pointed to a door near the arm chair.

"I'll get more food," he said. "You wore me out."

"I think you should blame that on Morgana. She's the one who tortured me half to death," Arya said.

"I wasn't blaming you," he said

"By the way, how come you've been able to stay here all this time?" Arya asked as he went for the door.

"Galbatorix gave me the day off as a reward for my performance in the many skirmishes that have taken place these past few weeks," Murtagh explained tightly.

"What happened?" she asked.

Murtagh paused and seemed to decide that it wouldn't do any harm to tell her because he answered her with, "The Varden won some, and we won some. Hathcyn left last night to go fight in Feinster."

"How powerful is he?" Arya asked.

"He can be powerful at times. His magic has improved greatly, but he still fights like a berserker," Murtagh said.

"He does?" she asked.

"Yes," Murtagh said. "Now, I must be getting us our food. I know I'm starving, and you must be." With that, he exited the room and shut the door. She heard the lock click. Maybe he wasn't as transfixed by her as he sometimes seemed. He wasn't Eragon. That much was certain. He was a man and not a boy, and she had just admitted that.

She hissed through her teeth and pulled herself out of the bed. She made her way towards the door Murtagh had indicated and went through it. It wasn't much. There was a chamber pot, emptied and a large metal tub. She looked down into it and saw that there were the same little taps as were in her own room in Ellesméra. She filled the tub with hot water and lowered herself into it, savoring the sensation of warm water for the first time in months. It felt good to finally be able to wash the filth from her body.

She examined herself through the water. She'd lost so much weight she could see her ribs through her skin. She looked at her chest. It was still there at least, though it was smaller. She looked down at her stomach, puzzled. It was the only part of her that hadn't wasted away. She chose to ignore it and looked at her hip bones. They jutted through her skin. How could Murtagh find her appealing? How? She had missed food so much that her moon bloods hadn't come in two months. They'd probably come back as soon as she started eating more.

She raised herself halfway out of the tub and looked around for a towel. She realized she'd forgotten to shut the door. She saw Murtagh pull off his shirt and look around for a new one. She tried not to notice his body. She tried not to notice the solid lines on his abdomen and the faint lines that led to his hip bones and below. She shook her head. She was acting for too hormonal. She didn't need these reactions. Murtagh turned to face her, and she slipped down into the tub.

He entered the room, seemingly amused, and dropped a dress on the floor.   
She pulled herself out of the tub quickly and went for the dress.

"It might be a bit short, but it will fit," he said. "I borrowed it. The food's in the next room if you still want it."  
"Yes, I still want it," she said, pulling the dress over her head. She looked down. It only came down to just below the knee.

"How short was the person who owned this dress?" she asked.

"Fairly short," Murtagh said. "She's alive and well by the way. She's the only person around here who's your size, so…"

"This dress is too short. She is not my size," Arya complained.

"She's the only person around here who's a petite as you. Besides, there's nothing wrong with your legs," Murtagh said.

"And you watched me put it on," she continued, ignoring his comment.

"I was just returning your favor," he said.

"Are you accusing me of something?" she asked, sounding more flirtatious than she'd mean to.

"Maybe," he said, moving towards her.

She stood there, looking at him, daring him to come closer. He took her dare.

"So," he said, putting his hand on her cheek, "did you like what you saw?"  
"It's nothing I haven't seen before," she smirked.

"You're actually using that one against me, aren't you?" he asked, pretending to be offended.

"Yes, I am," she said. "It was a good defense." She pulled away from his touch and sauntered past him. She didn't know what possessed her to tease him. Maybe she needed to see how far she could stretch him. Maybe she wanted to see how far he could stretch her.

Two strong hands settled on her shoulders. "Why do you keep teasing me?" he asked, his lips on her ear.

"Who said anything about that?" she asked, turning and pulling away.

"Actions speak louder than words, don't they?" he asked, grabbing her arm.

"You know, you can only tease someone for so long," he said. She tried to back away and hit a wall.

"What are you going to do, rider?" she asked.

"I have a name, you know," he said. He was speaking into her ear again.

"I can call you what I wish," she whispered back, trying to slide away. His hands blocked her on both sides. He wrapped them around her waist, pulling her away from the wall slightly.

"Are you familiar with the word no, rider?" she asked.

"You haven't said it yet," he said.

"No," she whispered, putting her finger to his lips.

He looked at her. She wasn't sure if he was amused or offended. Perhaps he was both.

"No?" he asked. "Well then, since I do understand the word, I suppose that's the answer."

He pulled away. Arya bit her lip. She wanted to pull him back to her. Why was that? She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and followed him back to the small, oaken table laden with food. She sat down across from him and ate quietly. She didn't trust herself to speak. He seemed to notice this, so he said nothing. He just watched her at times. The reason she knew this was because she watched him as well.

"It's near midnight," he said when they were done.

"So it is," Arya agreed, standing. "Since I didn't get a proper sleep last night, I suppose I should get one tonight."

"As should I," he agreed.

She followed him back to the bed. He glanced at her when she climbed in beside him.

"Well, I don't want to sleep on the floor, and I doubt you do," she said.

"You're horrible, you know that?" he asked.

"As are you," she said.

"They'll decide your occupation as slave tomorrow," he added.

Arya gulped and turned over, extinguishing the candle herself.

Yes, I know nothing major happened between them. I considered it, but decided that Arya wouldn't do what she did in chapter one so soon. So, what do you think Arya's job as slave should be: healer (this could help Galbatorix and could be something he thinks would make her turn) or personal slave (pick whom)? Also, give a reason. Oh, and what should happen with Hathycn romantically? OC (if you have any ideas, send me; I can't make up characters on the spot), canon character (who?), or nobody. Anyway, here are the review responses.

Mayarider: Thanks so much.

MysticLegend11: First off, thanks for the long review. After you made a comment about the length, I figured out how many pages this story would be if it was a book and came up with 182 pages so far. Yeah, I know it's angsty. The torture was done as it was because I knew that whatever would happen to Arya in such a situation would be bad. I don't actually hate Arya. I just wanted to be realistic. Oh well. Yeah, I guess you do have to follow this one. I just updated the Marin story. Well, there are physical roots to the Menoa Tree. Second of all, who said it was gonna your average weapon? I worked it all out yesterday. I think that Helgrind and Vroengard seem like two likely locations of the Vault of Souls. Then again, considering the souls part, I had a theory that there are entrances to it. You'll see how that works out. I decided to make it a place where all the dead go, partially because I believe in life after death and partially because I didn't think it made sense to only send certain dead away as Paolini himself said that not much seperates Eragon, a rider, from others. So if there's a Vault of Souls, everyone's going there, at least in this story. Well, actually, I think I said that Ajihad was a tribal chief, so that would make both him and Nasuada of noble birth. I know what Lilith means, and I know the connotation, but they don't have Adam, Eve, or Lilith the demon in this world, so it's not as bad. Morgana decided to call her child that because she was the product "of the night" and she was illegitimate, so she would be a secret of sorts. I'm glad you think I've done well in character and plot development. I've always wondered if Murtagh/Arya and Eragon/Nasuada would work, so this fic was sort of an experiment. I'm glad you think I've pulled it off. I think the thing that keeps Andizhan from being a Mary Sue (and I worried about this a bit) is that she's so broken and weak. So, I'm glad you think I didn't make the mistake. I called it Black on White because of the fact that good and evil are mixing and also because of Murtagh's and Arya's appearances. That was from back when this was meant to be a one-shot.

Brain Drain: Well, I hope you pick up this chapter. Sorry about your dog and the pain killers. I've had the alerts not work before too. I hate when that happens. I glad you think I've fixed the OC problem and made them be part of the story instead of taking over it. This chapter was all Murtagh/Arya. I hope you liked it.

Stripysockz: Thanks. Yeah, poor Arya. You'll find out what will happen to her. Yes, Morgana has many issues. That would be funny if Morgana, Brecca, and Galbatorix all went on Doctor Phil. I'm you all think Eragon is an idiot. I didn't want to be alone on that one.

TheSummoningDark: Ah yes. Suspense. I'm glad you like it.

Shara: Yes, it was. I agree with you about evil. Good can't always win. I'm glad you liked the flashback. Well, the memories are the first thing he's gonna use. That will most likely be covered next chapter.

ANGEL-OF-DEATH6: I guess there are some shitty five year olds. Yeah, Arya cried. She lost it for a while, and then she slowly got it back. Yeah, Morgana is pretty hateful. She will only be pitiable a few times in this. Thanks about the Paolini comment. I doubt he'd read it considering the pairing though. Besides, he probably knows what'll happen in book three already. I was actually pretty surprised about how quickly I updated. I think it's because I wanted to put the last three chapters into one chapter, but it got too long.

Maze2010: What friendship? She didn't really know, but Galbatorix did. She'll probably go on about it to Murtagh. Yes, Brecca and Morgana are sadly perfect for each other, and that doesn't say anything good about either of them. I guess Lilith is a nature vs. nurture thing. Deandra's fairly normal, I think. No, Nasuada and Eragon did not see any of Arya's erotic memories or any other memories. Yeah, I completely forgot what v-day was, so I assumed you meant b-day. Yeah, my brain shuts down at times. Well, thanks for the long review.

Famous4it: Thanks. I was hoping that I got the emotions right.

Roguelane: Yes, I hope you liked this chapter despite the lack of sex. LOL. They did get pretty close though. Yes, Morgana and Brecca are curse-worthy. Lilith will be saved somehow or another. Adoption might work. Yes, old Witless Wonder was being pretty careless. He did take care of her after she passed out though. Elva does pwon. I'm not quite sure what will happen to Andizhan, but she'll most likely be in the next chapter. Yeah, it will not be Eragon/Arya or Murtagh/Nasuada at the end. It'll be more like one-sided affections and guilt. Nasuada is much harder to hurt than Eragon because I actually like her as a character. That's probably what Nasuada will do considering she'd be much more reasonable about Murtagh not loving her than Eragon and she'll sort of like Eragon by then. You are so right about Eragon. The ruler thing might take place in a parody chapter I'm considering doing. (Basically, I'll write the chapter where they figure out that Murtagh and Arya did the nasty-nasty on a table seriously, and then I'll write a parody where Eragon faints, screams, cries, calls for a ruler, and then gets beaten up, or something like that.) Yeah, I hate Eragon. Yes, watch "The Illusionist." It's a great movie. Just watch carefully. There's a huge twist at the end.

Treeonfire13: Well, it was ten pages without the review responses. Plus, this chapter was long, so I couldn't have put them both together. You'll find out about Brecca soon, probably in like two chapters.

Fredsonetrueluv: Yeah, it rocks. Elva is very smart. I'm actually starting to really like her. I love it when she curses Eragon. He deserved it. Wow. I'm glad you thought that was hot. They are a very intense pairing. I hope you liked this chapter as much as the flashback.


	19. New Wound

New Wound

_If everyone cared and nobody cried  
If everyone loved and nobody lied  
If everyone shared and swallowed their pride  
Then we'd see the day when nobody died_

_-Nickelback in "If Everyone Cared"_

Disclaimer: Don't own. Don't sue. Thank you.

Arya wasn't sure what woke her up so early—it was only five in the morning—but when she did awake, she found herself lying against Murtagh's back. She wasn't sure why she was. Perhaps it was because she'd never been able to stay still as she slept. She tried to go back to sleep but found that she could not. Perhaps that was because she'd relied on a sleeping potion for so many weeks.

She found herself staring at the only thing she could see in front of her: Murtagh's back. He had more muscle than most of the elfin men, and his build was more solid. She'd found in Dras Leona that she liked his build, and she didn't change her opinion. Her eyes fell on the long scar. True, he had other scars. Everyone who fought did. She herself had several, though his scar was the worst she'd ever seen with the possible exception of the wound Durza had given him. She wondered for a moment what it would be like to bear the sword that had wounded him. Then again, hadn't he chosen to take it from Eragon? She didn't know why, but Zar'roc belonged to Murtagh now, not Eragon.

She stared at the scar again. It wasn't as bad as it once have must been. It was so old that it had turned white, but it would never leave him. She wondered what it would be like to carry the record of your past with on you.

Her fingers ran down her side to touch a burn that had never fully healed. It was about two years old. She'd earned it when Durza had hit her in the side with his spell. It was her physical reminder of the fact that she'd lost her friend, her lover, and nearly sixth months of her life because of the same person.

She looked at the scar again. She ran her finger over it on a slight impulse. She felt Murtagh stir slightly, and she pulled away, curling up in a ball perhaps a foot away from him.

She felt a hand press down on her shoulder, stroking it lightly and felt as well as heard a voice whisper, "Did you really have to wake me up?"

She pretended to awaken and looked at him questioningly.

He laughed and pulled away from her. "You can't act, you know."

Arya pretended to still not know what he was talking about.

"I have to go to training," he told her as he shoved a leftover piece of bread into his mouth. "Someone will be sent by here later today to decide your fate."

"Who decides it?" she asked.

Murtagh paused. "Galbatorix, technically," he said.  
"Define technically," she said rising and coming to stand next to him.

"He's placed Morgana in charge of his household," Murtagh said.

"And she manages to do this as well as torture how?" Arya asked.

"She delegates the tasks of organization to various people, but she still only has to answer to Galbatorix. All the servants answer to her," Murtagh explained.

"Why does he give her so much power?" Arya asked.

"She's his daughter," Murtagh answered.

"Why then hasn't he tested her for the eggs?" Arya asked.

"Who says he hasn't?" Murtagh asked. Arya thought she detected a hint of laughter in his voice.

"You don't like her, do you?" she asked.

"No," Murtagh said. "I have to go. Take whatever you want of the food."

Arya waited until he left the room to eat. She ate ravenously, not understanding why she was so hungry, before her stomach rebelled against her and she was forced to run to the bathroom to vomit. She pulled herself away from the chamber pot and leaned against the wall. Why was she still sick? She'd been healed. Maybe it was because she was unused to so much food? She heard a key turn and ran out of the bathroom. Murtagh couldn't be back so soon, so who was here?  
A petite woman with strawberry-blond hair stood at the door.

"I'm supposed to examine you and find out if there's anything wrong with you," the woman said. "You look healed to me, but that's not my say apparently. I get back from the field hospital—and believe me, you do not want to go to the field hospital—and they make me look at an elf that looks to be perfectly fine."

Arya just stared at her.

"Oh, forgive my complaints," she said. "Morgana wants to know how healthy you are so she can assign you to some task or another. She's supposed to be making sense of what she found in your mind and organizing a report for his majesty, but apparently she can't do that without Murtagh who is apparently training right now."

"You mean they can't make sense of what they found in my mind?" Arya asked, sounding hopeful.

The woman sighed. "Oh, they will," she said. "They always do. I don't know how, but they do."

"Well, if it makes you feel any better, I'm still throwing up food. Have you anything for that?" Arya said.

"Depends," the woman said. "Sit down, and open your mouth."

"Nothing's wrong with your throat," she mumbled. "I know what Morgana gave you wasn't good, but she gave you enough to survive."

She then put a hand on her stomach and frowned.

"I don't think she did," Arya said. "My bleeding's stopped." She paused. What was the woman hinting at? It couldn't be that. Children were so rare. She couldn't be…

"You're name's Arya, right?" the woman asked.

Arya nodded. "And yours?"  
"Deandra," the woman replied. "Arya, is it at all possible that you could be pregnant?"  
Arya gulped and nodded.

"That's not good," Deandra mumbled.

"Don't tell them," Arya said. She didn't want to beg, but she was afraid she'd have to. "Please." She got down on her knees.

Deandra walked away and looked around the room. She pulled a set of keys out of a drawer, flipped through them, paused to read each on, and then finally selected the correct one.

"Come here," she told Arya.

Arya went.

"Hold out your hands," Deandra said. She examined the chains on her wrists before she found the appropriate lock. She placed the key in it and turned it. "This'll give you back your power to create an illusion. I've seen what Galbatorix can do to a child. We'll see how long we can hide this."

Arya nodded. She felt a small strain of magic return to her. It wasn't much, but it felt like a lot. She felt stronger and less sick. She'd forgotten how powerful feeling magic, even a little bit, in your blood felt.

"Use it once you start to show. That shouldn't be for another month or two," Deandra continued.

"Won't someone be able to tell…?" Arya asked.

Deandra shook her head. "Illusions don't register as magic, at least not to humans."  
"Oh," Arya said. "They do for elves."  
"Yes, you're naturally superior," Deandra said with a hint of sarcasm.

Arya said nothing.

"Look here," Deandra said. "Don't tell anyone about this. I'll suffer for it if you do."

"What of the father?" Arya asked. She was uncertain whether she wanted to tell Murtagh, but if she needed his help, this would be excellent leverage.

"If you think it will do more good than harm," Deandra said after pausing to think. The woman then finished her examination, declared to be fine, and left.

Arya threw herself down on the bed as soon as she left and stared up at the ceiling, feeling hopeless. How could she have been so stupid? How could she have thought she could have done something like that and not had any consequences? She'd been captured; she'd lost another egg, and it had hatched for the empire; she'd revealed the location of the elfin cities; and now she was pregnant with the child of a traitor, a child born by an act of freewill. Her people could never forgive her. Why should they? She felt tears roll down her face as she lay there. She was crying for the second time in two days and two years, and she didn't care. She knew tears wouldn't make it better, but what could she do but cry?

Eragon looked down at Nasuada from Saphira's back. She looked up at him earnestly.

"Are you sure I shouldn't go to Feinster?" she asked.

"If you die, the Varden is doomed," Eragon said.

"If _you_ die, they're doomed. If I die, there are others who could assume control," she argued.

Eragon continued to stare at her. She looked determined to go. A part of him knew he couldn't stop her. That same part was reminded of how he'd tried to stop Arya from going into battle under Farthen Dûr. Saphira sighed.

_What is it?_ he asked.

_First you love Arya, now you love Nasuada,_ she said. _Make up your mind._

_I don't love Nasuaa,_ he said. _I'm concerned for her as my liege. _

A part of him felt guilty that he was going to this battle instead of going to rescue Arya, but he knew it was necessary to stop the new rider if possible before he went into Urû'baen. He also knew he could not go to Ellesméra beforehand. He needed Arya back soon.

_And the elves wouldn't let us in there without her,_ Saphira added.

Eragon nodded. He knew that Islanzadí would be furious that Arya had been captured again, and he knew that he needed to get her daughter back.

"Let me come with you," Nasuada said. "We don't know if troops are coming with the new rider, or if he'll sneak in, or what he'll. Elva only knows that he is coming within a few days, possibly within a few hours. Jörmundur and Orrin know what to do if I am killed. Besides, how I could I be with you?" She smiled at the last bit.

Eragon smiled back in spite of himself and offered a hand to her. Saphira crouched down to allow her to take it and climb on.

Nasuada pulled herself into the saddle, and Eragon turned to strap her in, being careful not to touch her. He didn't know why he was both scared to do so and desiring to do so at the same time. He didn't need feelings for more than one woman. It would be too complicated. He'd get Arya back, and…

_And what then?_ Saphira asked. _She keeps rejecting you, Eragon._

_Maybe she'll change her mind after I save her,_ the blue rider said.

_She'll be grateful, as is fitting,_ Saphira said. _Don't depend on her to change her heart. Nobody can do that. Besides, you're too young for her as I was too young for Glaedr. I've learned my lesson. Now you must learn yours._

Eragon could think of nothing to say to this, and Saphira took off.

Eofor landed about a quarter of a league.

_Didn't take you half so long this time as it did last time, did it?_ Eofor asked, gloating slightly. He seemed to be very proud of his newly acquired flying abilites.

_No, it didn't,_ Hathcyn agreed.

_So, you said you wanted to go into the city and get a good vantage point, and then I'd follow you?_ the green dragon asked, his voice sounding overly enthusiastic. Hathcyn didn't blame him. They were finally allowed to talk to each other in private, if only for the duration of the mission.

_Yeah,_ Hathcyn said. _They won't us out either. Not after what we've done. _

_You know, he can still read our memories and find out what we said,_ Eofor remarked. He seemed to also be enjoying being able to read Hathycn's thoughts again.

The half-elf snorted slightly.

_It's not funny, you know,_ Eofor said. _It's how he knows our true names._

_You're right,_ Hathcyn said, his voice becoming serious. _Those bloody names. It's infuriating, you have that right. He can make us do anything, and I don't like things that make me do anything, even if they give me power. I just have to laugh it off, or I might do something else._

_Power has a price,_ Eofor remarked. _That never changes. I thought you knew that nothing comes free. You said it lots of times before I hatched._

_You read my memories too?_ Hathcyn asked.

_Yes,_ Eofor said defensively. _I do have to know about you. _

_It's fine,_ Hathcyn said. _As for nothing being free, I thought maybe something would come free for once with the king. I dunno why. Maybe it's because I thought he was the king, so he could do anything. It was stupid, and you were right, as always._

Eofor was silent.

_You mean you're not going to gloat?_ Hathcyn asked.

_I would if it weren't so bad,_ Eofor said. _Besides, I should have listened to you and Thorn and been less rebellious. That's what got us in trouble._

_It's part of it,_ Hathcyn said, dismounting. _I'd better get going. I'll tell you when to come in. _

_And if I think I need to come in before then, I will,_ Eofor told him.

_Of course,_ Hathcyn said as he began the run to the city.

Trianna stood near the entrance of the gates with two members of Du Vrangr Gata. She was to make sure that the rider didn't enter the city by stealth as he had done in Aberon. This time they had a warning, and they'd use that warning to their advantage. Now, where was Eragon? She half hoped that he'd come and half hoped that he wouldn't. If he did come, they'd be safe. If he didn't come and they still ended up being safe, she would get tremendous credit.

"Trianna, we have to investigate these people," one of the two men whispered in her ear. Trianna looked up and saw that there were seven people entering the city. Two appeared to be a young couple, three a group of traveling merchants, one a story teller, and the last a young traveler. She'd examine the single people first.

"Yes, Cassio," she said, moving in front of him. She smirked slightly. He was too much of a gentleman to reprimand her for that. He'd guard her back.

She checked the traveling storyteller and found nothing suspicious.

Hathcyn didn't even flinch when the young sorceress put her hand on his forehead. She wouldn't find anything. Not since he and Eofor had performed the mind-vault spell. Now, he had a part of his mind that barely registered during a mind-probe and that couldn't be accessed ever. Only he could pull memories out of it. He'd hidden everything that had happened to him since he'd followed Murtagh from Dras Leona and replaced with a story of a thief's reformation. He hoped it would be convincing enough. At least he didn't look like a rider now and his ears had been spelled by Galbatorix to look normal.

Trianna searched the young man's mind and found nothing more suspicious than a thief's past. He'd had a suspect reformation apparently, but she was looking out for a rider, not some petty thief from Dras Leona whose mother had died and whose older brother had left.

"You may pass," she said.

"Trianna, he was a thief. Are you sure that's wise?" Cassio whispered.

"He's a what?" Benvolio asked more loudly than was necessary.

"He was a what," Hathcyn corrected, being unable to resist sarcasm.

Benvolio was about to lunge at him before Cassio pulled him back.

"We don't need a fight right now," he hissed in his ear.

"Don't tell me you've never gotten drunk and gotten into a fight," Benvolio hissed back. "I've witnessed some. All of Surda knows you can't hold your liquor."

"Benvolio, Cassio, stop it," Trianna snapped. "We need to finish this."

Hathcyn strode past them, pausing to wink at the sorceress. She was pretty, maybe even more classically pretty than Morgana was. Morgana's looks were more blatant, more striking, more carnal, though the sorceress' weren't bad. Those blue eyes could bear into him in a good way. He liked it.

Trianna rolled her eyes at the former thief. He had nerve; that was for sure. Well, Benvolio did too, but these were two different kinds of nerve.

She looked back to the other two groups. She examined them and found nothing incriminating. When was he coming? Perhaps the tip-off had been wrong. That would be annoying. That would mean that they'd have had to come all the way from Aberon to Feinster for no reason.

Hathcyn strode through the streets. They were easier to navigate than Dras Leona as Feinster had been planned and Dras Leona was a tangled mess. He snorted in memory of his old city. It had been the second largest city in the empire, and the biggest cesspool. Now, where and when should he attack? The night seemed like the best time. He didn't understand why the king kept sending him alone on these missions. This was nothing like what Murtagh did. The red rider had troops he'd lead against the Varden. Maybe he didn't think Hathcyn could make anyone follow him. Maybe he was right. Hathcyn shook those thoughts out of his head. He didn't need to think that he was less valuable to Galbatorix. That could be bad in a power struggle between himself and Murtagh. He would succeed in this mission and survive. He knew Eofor felt differently about it, but he needed to get through this first.

He looked through the crowded streets and felt something a little like guilt forming in the pit of his stomach. How many of these people would die because of him? He knew the answer: All of them. Those had been Galbatorix's orders: Burn the base; kill all you can, and avoid the blue rider if he should come.

He knew deep down inside that not all of them deserved what they would get. He knew that some of them were just people who happened to have been born in Surda. He decided that he would burn the base there first and kill anyone who got in his way. He'd have gotten rid of the Varden threat here, and the rest would be fine. It would please Eofor more, and the king would have what he wanted. He settled on an inn near the citadel, which he knew would be the sight of the base. He paid his money to the wizened innkeeper and made his way up to his room, which he knew would be on the top floor. He sat down on the bed but didn't fall asleep. He'd wait until nightfall. That was when it would happen.

Arya willed her tears to stop as she heard the lock turn. It couldn't be Murtagh. He couldn't be done training. She was right once again. Morgana stood there, looking at her with a condescendingly triumphant expression. It made Arya want to vomit. Instead, she schooled her features into a neutral mask.

"I have decided on your task," Morgana said quietly. "You will be the green rider's personal slave when he comes back."  
Arya didn't react.

"Aren't you disappointed that it wasn't the red rider?" Morgana asked. "After what happened in Dras Leona? I know you liked it. I would warn you that he bites, but I suppose you know that."

The young woman turned on her heals, swished her auburn hair, and left the room, leaving Arya angrier than she'd been in a long time. How dare this common whore speak to her like that? She was still princess even if she'd been brought low. She'd get through this. One way or another, she'd get through this. She'd have to find out what this rider was like. From the little she'd seen of him, he'd been slightly arrogant, sarcastic, and capricious. She might be able to turn him if she went about it the right way. She might be able to escape before even the illusions couldn't hide her pregnancy. It would have to. That was the only way.

Well, that's the end of chapter nineteen. Yes, it's official that Arya is pregnant, though most of you got it last chapter. I intended to put the whole battle in this chapter, but it would have gotten too long and squished up. The rest will be put in next chapter, and maybe there'll be other people's p.o.v's. Wow. I got like twenty reviews last chapter. Thanks so much.

Rndmprsnudntno: Thanks. I hope this update came soon enough.

BrainDrain: LOL. Well, there was some of my OCs in this chapter, and Hathcyn and Eofor will have most of next chapter. I might put him with Trianna. That's really the only canon character that fits, but I think she could really fit. I'll see what'll happen. Yeah, Murtagh should have noticed, but he wasn't really looking for a baby, and Deandra was suspecting it when Arya mentioned vomiting, and Arya didn't want to know that she was pregnant. I'm glad you like my Arya. I don't know who could resist Murtagh. Arya's fighting a losing battle right now. I didn't know too much about Garrett Hedlund before I saw the movie, but I thought he was one of the better actors in it. I agree with you about Arya's hair. It also makes her a bit more of an Arwen rip-off. I hope you liked this chapter.

CaremelBoost: Indeed he is. Yeah, Murtagh and Arya are both really confused. I'm glad you liked that nothing happened. I thought it was too early for that happen again. I've confirmed what's wrong with Arya this chapter. Yes, this pregnancy will create much drama. Ah, I love drama. This is starting to sound like a soap opera. I really considered putting her with Deandra, but I decided that putting her with Hathcyn would do more for the plot, and it would fit Morgana more. I might put him with an OC/might put him with Trianna. Eofor was in this chapter. I hope you liked him in this chapter, and I hope you liked the chapter in general.

Mayarider: Yeah, she is. Murtagh's personal slave would be cool, but I don't think that it would realistically happen. Oh well.

Beowulf-Cryptic: Yeah, the ending was whacked, but I liked it. My mom and I watched it together, and we spent ten minutes figuring out what happened.

KewlKid: Why would I stop writing? I'm glad you like it.

Stripysockz: I'm glad you liked it, and I'm glad you liked Thorn. Yeah, Arya's pregnant. Yes, Eragon finding will be funny. I used both your ideas. They were great.

TheSummoningDark: LOL. Glad to have done so. Well, you've found out what's going on with Arya.

Famous4it: Thanks. I'm glad you thought so. I think I've decided what to do with Hathcyn.

ANGEL-OF-DEATH: Thanks so much. Yeah, Murtagh and Arya are surprisingly easy to write chemistry for. Eragon and Nasuada are a little bit harder, maybe because they're both purer and more innocent. I've decided to make her Hathcyn's personal slave because that'll give a half-breed full power over a full elf, which is pretty insulting. I would have liked to put her with Murtagh, but you're right: Galby wouldn't go for it. I'm glad you liked the flashes of Arya's memories.

Skipper, the Flaming Llama: I would have done that, but I don't think Morgana could stand it because she's so jealous of Arya. I hope you liked this chapter.

Roguelane: LOL. Glad you liked it. Sorry about the lack of sex. There will be some later. Yeah, Thorn is fun to write. I used the Hathcyn idea. That is exactly what Morgana is going to do.

GEMville: It's not weird at all. It's good. That's why I used that idea. I'm serious. I never even though of it, but so many people suggested it, and I thought it was a great idea.

MysticLegend11: Yeah, it was. Yeah, Arya is an elf. I see what you're saying about conversation. What I'm trying to do is make them more open to each other, but they do need to have some silence. I agree with you there. I guess I am a prolific writer, but so are you. Well, at least you update a lot. I figured out more about the Vault and sword. I'm so glad you brought it up. I'm really starting to think now. I'm glad you thought I had one of the best chapters. Yeah, subtle romance is nice, and it's fitting for characters like Murtagh and Arya. I decided to Hathcyn because it could create so much drama. I'd explain, but it would take too long, and you'll see anyway. Arya can get part of her magic back. That's part of the handcuffs. Galbatorix will let her have back certain magics when he thinks he can use them, and then he'll take them away. Hathcyn may just fall in love with Arya. We'll see.

Shara: Thanks. Yeah, it was a bit corny, but oh well. Arya was trying to figure out what Murtagh felt for her, and she likes him, so that makes it harder for her to control herself, though I see what you're saying. Hathcyn's feelings for Morgana are more lust than love if that answers your question. I don't like Morgana much either. She's done what I wanted her to do as a character, and she still works, but she was never meant to be liked. I think I've decided on what to do with Hathcyn. Let's see what happens.

Treeonfire13: Yes, she is. She's Hathcyn's personal slave.

Maze2010: Yeah. I decided to do Hathcyn's personal slave for drama.

LoNnI: I'm glad you like it, and I agree with you.

Covered Clouds: Yes. Arya will find her way to get back at Morgana. You'll see. Glad you liked it.

Fredsonetrueluv: Yeah. It kinda reminded me of that song "A Little Less Conversation." I'm weird like that. LOL. I love Thorn. He's fun. You'll see what'll happen with Hathcyn as soon as I see if what I have planned for him works.


	20. Saving

Saving

_Hurry I'm fallin'  
All I need is you  
Come please I'm callin'  
And oh, I scream for you  
Hurry I'm fallin', I'm fallin', I'm fallin'_

_Nickelback in Savin' Me_

Disclaimer: Don't own. Don't sue. Thank you.

Hathcyn awoke at midnight, surprised that he had fallen asleep.

_Well, you haven't slept in these past two nights, and neither have I,_ Eofor remarked. The green dragon sounded slightly annoyed as though Hathcyn had awakened him.

_Your short flight was tiring,_ Hathcyn said.

Eofor sounded slightly offended.

_Though we did get here in far less time, and we were together,_ Hathcyn added. He and Eofor still had to work on not accidentally offending each other. Perhaps if Galbatorix hadn't cut them off from each other, they would have worked this out by now.

_It would have taken more than six weeks,_ Eofor remarked.

_Yeah, but we could've made a dent in it,_ Hathcyn said.

_Yeah,_ Eofor agreed. _This book had better help us get away from him._

_I'm not sure if…_Hathcyn began.

_We play by his rules just long enough to get away._

_He has our true names._

_That book has to have something to cancel that. It had the mind-vault thing, and that was hard. There has to be something else._

_Fine,_ Hathcyn said. _I'll steal the book and see what it can do for us.  
Well, you were a thief. We need to put that to use._

_That we do,_ Hathcyn agreed.

_Remember our deal,_ Eofor warned. _We burn the base and nothing else. _

_I remember. I'm not that old,_ Hathcyn muttered.

_Compared to me you are,_ Eofor mumbled. _Nine weeks to twenty one years?_

Hathcyn chuckled and stopped speaking. He climbed onto the top of the building and drew his bow, aiming directly for the base. He mumbled, "Brisingr" and went to lose it.

"Oy!" a voice yelled. "What are you doing?" He felt a large piece of metal come down on his arm, and he dropped the bow in surprise. He turned to see that mage from earlier—what was his name? Benvolio—standing there.

"Can't even use enough magic to save your base?" Hathcyn asked.

Benvolio went to strike him again, going for his head this time, and in a moment of fear for his life, the green rider shouted, "Letta hjarta älfrs." Stop his heart.

The amateur mage gasped and fell to the ground, clutching his heart. Hathcyn sat down on the roof. That spell had tired him out. He looked to his bow and went to pick it up. He hoped he hadn't awoken anyone. He knew he probably had.

_I'm coming,_ Eofor said, clearly dissatisfied by the fact that Hathcyn had decided to kill somebody so soon. The green dragon severed their link before Hathcyn could tell him to stay back.

_And here some blighters thought dragons were transportation devices,_ Hathcyn thought. Eofor had a mind of his own and could control Hathcyn more than Hathcyn could control him.

_I heard that,_ Eofor yelled.

_I meant I thought they were wrong,_ Hathcyn shouted. Well, at least they both had pride in common.

Cassio watched in horror as the body of his comrade fell to the ground dead. He saw the former thief sink to the ground, slightly tired out. He watched as the man caught his breath and reached for his bow.

"Sorry, Benvolio," he mumbled. "You were right."

"The old fighter had to pick a rightly righteous once in his life," Mercutio, a soldier, remarked.

"Sh," Trianna hissed, putting a finger to her lips.

"Well, we shouldn't've trusted anyone who tried to hit on our girl," Mercutio added to Cassio, playfully putting his arm around Trianna.

"One, this is not the time. Two, get off me," Trianna hissed.

Mercutio did so.

"We ambush him when he gets closer to the edge," Trianna continued.

Mercutio and Cassio both gave her a look.

"It'll work," she assured them.

"Fine, just let us get to him first," Cassio murmured.

Trianna gave him a look, and he replied with a, "Well, he's not going to be easy to push off the building, and we'll need your help in magic."

Hathcyn raised his bow again, relit it, and released the arrow just as he felt two people push against his back. He felt himself lose his balance and plummet over the edge, gripping a windowsill just.

There had been more! He mentally cursed himself for being so stupid.

He pushed himself up into the windowsill and stood against it.

_Eofor, now might be a good time,_ he said.

Just then, he felt teeth grabbing him by the back of his shirt as he was pulled away from the sill.

_You know that hurt,_ he told his dragon as he was dragged away.

_Yes,_ Eofor admitted sheepishly before adding, _At least you're alive. _

Eofor propelled himself upward as an arrow was fired. Hathcyn yelled a spell to stop it before it pierced the green dragon's wings. Eofor still wasn't the best of fliers, and an arrow would harm his small wings.

_They are not small,_ Eofor protested.

_Comparatively, I meant,_ Hathcyn corrected, drawing another arrow. The base wouldn't be undone yet, and he had a task to finish. He hit his mark a second time when Eofor was suddenly pulled back down. He turned to see the sorceress from earlier that day clinging to Eofor's tail.

"Look!" he shouted. "I'm giving you three seconds to let go and fall back on the inn."

The young woman glared at him and replied with, "That'll kill me."

"No, it won't," Hathcyn said. "You might break something, but I'd take the chance."

"Well, I'm not you," she yelled back.

"Obviously," he mumbled. "I'd be female."

_Hathcyn!_ Eofor yelled. _I can't keep this up._

The green rider thought. The sorceress was climbing up farther. He didn't want to use magic against her, and he was already feeling an attack on his mind. If he let his guard down to kill her, she might just be strong enough to do the same to him before she died.

He grabbed her wrists and pulled her closer, catching her in a kiss. She squirmed against him but responded seemingly accidentally. He could feel rage going through her as she tried to push away. He smiled around her mouth. That had been what he'd wanted.

"Sorry," he yelled as she pulled away and Eofor spun knocking her down to the inn which was perhaps five feet away. The two men there caught her.

"Get to the base!" she shouted to Mercutio and Cassio, trying to hide her shame at having been subdued so easily and by such a primal method.

Just then, a blue dragon hurtled down from the sky, straight towards Eofor.

_Saphira!_ Eofor shouted, his voice somewhere between excited and terrified.

"Nasuada!" Eragon shouted over his shoulder.

"What?" she asked.

Eragon gave up and entered her mind tentatively, embracing her identity. He could feel her fear at failure and her determination not to, the two intertwining so that they were almost one.

_Nasuada, I'm going to let you down on the roof. Saphira and I will fight the rider. You help the others,_ he ordered.

_But…_she began to protest before Eragon set her down next to Trianna.

"Men seem to think we're hopeless, don't they?" Trianna asked her.

"Let's go," Nasuada ordered, ignoring the sorceress' remarks.

Eragon was almost knocked out of the saddle as Saphira twisted to kick at the green dragon, who had whirled around to get away from her. He could see that the green rider seemed to be having similar problems.

As the two dragons grappled in the air—Saphira was winning because of her size, but the green dragon was holding his own quite well—the green rider jumped from his dragon's saddle and launched himself at Eragon,

The blue rider took advantage of this to yell, "Malthinae!"

Unfortunately, the green rider covered his mouth with his hand before he could complete the spell.

The two wrestled on top of Saphira, giving the green dragon a temporary advantage long enough for him to leave a significant wound on her stomach.

Eventually, Eragon forced the green rider off of Saphira back, but the half-elf held fast onto his wrists, and they both tumbled out of the saddle to the top of the inn. The green rider took the time to fling Eragon away from him as he fell to the roof. Both riders lay winded for a moment before they arose to begin their fight.

Hathcyn drew his sword quickly. He knew from Galbatorix that Eragon matched Murtagh's technical skill, and he also knew that the blue rider had been given the abilities of an elf. He knew he didn't have much chance in a sword battle, but he had less chance in a wizard's duel.

Eragon had only just gotten his borrowed blade up when the green rider struck haphazardly at him. He parried the blow and blocked the next. They came quickly, but they were all mismatched. The green rider fought like what Oromis would call a berserker.

Eragon finally got the offensive edge, forcing the green rider to retreat to the inn's edge. The half-breed leaned back so far to dodge the blow that Eragon was surprised he didn't hurtle into the now chaotic streets.

He pulled himself out of it and trapped Eragon's blade between their bodies. Eragon kicked him angrily backwards, and the new rider rolled away from the blade now coming to his neck. He didn't roll quickly enough; it sliced him through the side.

Hathcyn drew in his breath and pulled himself up, panting hard.

"You wanna play low, boy? You've got it," he muttered. "Thrysta."

A ball of air hit Eragon in the chest, and he caught himself just in time.

"Jierda!" the rider shouted again. Eragon cringed as his sword snapped in two.

"Malthinae!" he cried just as Saphira brought Eofor down onto the roof.

Hathcyn struggled against the bonds.

_I'll-fight-it-with-you,_ Eofor gasped, struggling beneath Saphira.

_It's time to play really low,_ Hathcyn told his dragon, thinking back to his first glimpse of Murtagh and that elf, Arya. He'd heard Galbatorix say something since then of an attachment in Eragon towards her.

"Brakka du vanyalí sem huildr Eofor un eka," Hathcyn shouted.

Eragon held his magic easily, sweating only slightly.

"Hey, boy, you know that elf you like?" the green rider asked, panting. Eragon wasn't sure if that was because of blood loss, his effort, or both.

Eofor had to hold back a screech as Saphira clawed at his chest. The green dragon bit her in the leg. She roared, and Eofor took advantage of the situation to get out from under her. He shot up and then down to bite her tail. She smacked him in the face with it after he did that.

"What about Arya?" Eragon asked in spite of himself. He felt the half-elf attack his magic again, this time with a great deal of force. Eragon barely managed to keep his hold on the new rider.

"She got captured for stealing an egg, right?" the rider asked.

"Yes," Eragon said irritably, strengthening his hold. He'd guessed the rider's game. He was just using Arya's name to distract him.

"Ever thought of how she got it?" Hathcyn asked.

"She stole it from Murtagh," Eragon replied.

"And how did she get into such a situation with your brother?" Hathcyn taunted.

"How did you…"

"Well, you both look alike, and you're both just about as dumb," Hathcyn said, choosing not to mention the fact that Galbatorix had mentioned this several times.

That stung Eragon's pride, and the half-elf made him reduce his hold considerably. He wasn't able to make up for the lost magic, but at least the green rider was still bound.

"You haven't answered my question," Eragon growled.

"Ah, yes," Hathcyn said, pretending to remember something he'd forgotten. "How did she get into such a situation with your brother that could possibly and more or less enable to rob him? Well, I'll tell you what I observed. The pretty little elf walks in, throws an overly ardent suitor into a table, is greeted by our acquaintance, goes into a room with him, and comes out alone in the morning carrying something. Now, what do you make of that?"

Eragon truly didn't know. "What are you getting at?" he demanded.

"You don't see it?" Hathcyn said.

Eragon shook his head before it dawned on him. "You're lying!" he yelled.

"Losna Eofor un eka!" he shouted. Eragon fell back as the magic was released and then threw himself at Hathcyn as he regained his feet.

"Lying, am I?" Hathcyn asked as he blocked Eragon's blow, ignoring the pain in his side with Eofor's help. He was almost out of this mess, and he'd burned the base.

"Arya wouldn't do that with that traitor," Eragon declared.

Hathcyn laughed as he knocked the younger boy's broken blade away. He then fell over gasping, pulling the half-sword from Eragon's hand. He looked at the blood on his hand and grimaced.

"We're both in a bad situation, aren't we?" he asked.

"You're in a worse one," Eragon yelled. Hathcyn's blue-gray eyes widened as Saphira pushed Eofor to the ground, her teeth mere inches from his throat. Eragon kicked Hathcyn in the side with a glare and reached for his broken blade. Hathcyn grabbed his wrist and pulled him down, pressing his own sword against the younger rider's throat.

"Let my dragon go," he said to Saphira.

_Release my rider,_ Saphira ordered. _I know you've been ordered not to kill him._

"Kill, yes. Harm, no," Hathcyn said with a sneer.

_Well, I have no such inhibitions where your dragon is concerned,_ Saphira declared.

_She's hesitating,_ Eofor said to Hathcyn. _She won't do it._

Hathcyn responded by pulling Eragon up in front of him like a human shield.

"You can't hurt me," he said. "If you touch my dragon, your rider is dead, and you probably are too. Maybe I'll be too, but look at it this way. Your Varden still has Galbatorix and another to defeat. Getting rid of us won't do much for the Varden, but losing you two will doom them. What say you?"

_I say I won't let it happen,_ Saphira said.

"Won't let this happen?" Hathcyn asked, running his blade down Eragon's collarbone.

Saphira pulled away from Eofor, nicking his throat, and launched herself at his rider.

_Eofor!_ Hathcyn yelled, throwing Eragon over the edge of the inn to send Saphira after him.

He rant to his dragon and yelled, "Waíse heill." He blacked out even as he felt the skin close.

Eofor stared down at his fallen rider. He couldn't be dead. He couldn't be dead. He put his snout near his mouth and felt breath on it. He grabbed Hathcyn in his claws, careful to not wound his side. It was his fault. He should have been stronger. He shouldn't have fallen so easily to the big and beautiful blue dragon. He shouldn't have pitied her for being female.

He flew away from Feinster, adrenaline forcing him to go on despite his battered wings. The worst of his wounds were healed. He could get away, and he had to get away.

Saphira caught her fallen rider before he hit the ground. She felt her tears mingling with his blood. She shouldn't have fallen for the half-elf's trick. She should have released his dragon. Oh, how she hated both herself and the half-breed. They'd both killed her rider.

"Saphira!" Nasuada's voice called as soon as she landed.

The blue dragon turned to see the Varden's leader and Angela running towards them.

"What happened?" the herbalist asked.

_The green rider cut his throat,_ Saphira managed to say through her tears. _I had his dragon pinned down, and he slit my rider's throat because I wouldn't let his dragon go. They got away. The green rider fainted. I hope he's dead._

Nasuada seemed shocked by the venom lacing the sadness Saphira's voice. Angela seemed to take it as it came. She leaned over Eragon and checked his pulse.

"He's alive," she said matter-of-factly. "Hope's still here." Nasuada looked nearly as relieved as Saphira felt. She knelt down next to the herbalist and took Eragon's hand in hers. Saphira nodded in approval. She was glad that someone could give Eragon the physical comfort she couldn't in his present condition.

Angela reached quickly into her pack of herbs. She pulled out a purplish one and wet it between her lips, applying it to the wound.

"Lady Nasuada, close this for me as soon as I clean it," Angela ordered. "I know you can."

_I'll lend you strength,_ Saphira added.

Nasuada waited with bated breath as the herbalist cleaned the wound. She was done within a minute. Nasuada placed her hand on the muscled skin just beneath the collar bone. The wound was thinnest there. That was where she would begin to close it. Angela took her wrist and moved it up.

"You need to start at the worst point. That way you'll get the worst at the very least," the witch explained.

Nasuada nodded and placed her hand on his throat, murmuring, "Waíse heill," as she stroked it. The wound closed slowly as she moved her hand down it. Saphira provided strength whenever hers failed. Nasuada only just registered how worried the dragon must be to meld her strength with one who was not her rider.

She finished and collapsed next to Eragon, panting with her hand still on his chest. She was barely hanging onto consciousness.

"What is going on here?" Trianna asked. Saphira growled at her. Nasuada wondered briefly why the sorceress and the dragon never got along.

"The Shadeslayer was hurt, and we healed him," Angela explained.

"Ah," Trianna said, throwing her head back forming an O with her lips. She'd clearly heard of Nasuada's magic.

"What are the damages?" Nasuada asked Trianna wearily, pulling herself up and removing her hand from Eragon's chest, not quite forgetting the warm yet firm feel of it.

"The base is completely gone," Trianna said, hanging her dark head. "We saved as many as we could. As many as forty died."

"I'll have to take him back to the capital. Can you stay here for me, Trianna?" Nasuada asked.

The sorceress appeared to be shocked by the fact that Nasuada had placed her demands in the form of a request, and she bowed her head respectfully in response. "I shall do so," she said.

"Thank you," Nasuada gasped, standing all the way up and leaning on Saphira.

"I will stay as well," Angela added.

Nasuada nodded to her as she grabbed hold of the back of Eragon's tunic. Trianna and Angela moved to help her. As soon as Eragon was secured in the saddle, Nasuada pulled herself up behind Eragon, holding him around the waist and strapping them both in as he had earlier that day. He'd awaken on his own time.

So, how many people thought I'd actually kill Eragon, Hathcy, or Eofor? Probably none of you, but oh well. Anyway, please review whether you liked or disliked this chapter and the battle scene. Sorry about the lack of Murtagh and Arya. They'll be in there next chapter. There's also going to be a big twist in next chapter (I think, i.e. if I can fit it in).

Rock Not War: Yep, she is. I hope you liked this chapter.

Fredsonetrueluv: Thanks. I hope you liked it in this chapter. LOL. Sorry about that misspelling. I hope you liked what happened with Hathcyn in this chapter.

Roguelane: He won't be that bad, but he'll be mad. At Murtagh more so than Arya, by the way. I'm glad you liked the beginning of last chapter. I played with that one a little before it was good enough for me. You were one of the few who called it in chapter fourteen. My first hint was in chapter nine actually, but it was subtle. The second, slightly less-but-still-pretty-subtle hint was in chapter twelve. I'm not surprised nobody got those. Do you still hate Eragon after he almost got killed, or did you like that part? I hate him too. I don't think a five year old would get it, but Lilith will be in the chapters again soon, possibly next chapter. I'm glad you like Hathcyn/Trianna. They're very well suited with similar personalities. You know, a lust for power, some arrogance, sarcasm, and deep-down goodness. I'm glad you liked Hathcyn and Eofor last chapter. They're fun to write. I'm pretty sure about when Murtagh will find out about the baby. I might my mind, but I'm pretty certain about it. I'm glad you're proud of my use of your idea. It was a good one. I liked the MurtaghArya wallpaper. It was cool. They look good together in the movie. Damn, why won't CP put them together? If he does, I'll squee. If he puts Murtagh and Nasuada together, I'll still be happy, but if he puts Eragon and Arya together, I'll cry, and they won't be tears of joy! I hope you liked this chapter.

Treeonfire13: He'll be fairly honorable. He'll probably hit on her some because that's what he does, but he won't force her to do anything she doesn't want to do. Well, Hathcyn implied it this chapter, even though he just suspects, and Eragon blew it off, but he might be haunted by it was bit while he's unconscious. We'll just have to wait and see.

GEMville: Yes, Murtagh will be mad, and I think we'll see some of that next chapter when dear old Hathcyn comes back.

Queenmab: Yeah, and it was during religion class too. It's a good thing you didn't laugh too hard, or Mrs. M would've killed you. Mercutio's in here slightly.

TheSummoningDark: I'll try to. I think I can. Do you have any advice?

CaramelBoost: Yeah, I think everyone did. LOL about the Soap Opera thing. I wanna piss Murtagh and Morgana off by putting Arya with Hathcyn. I might just have Hathcyn be with a couple people. The slave might come in. Oh, and next chapter's revelation will create much friction between Hathcyn and Morgana (if it's in there).

MysticLegend11: Yeah, none of those people are very important. LOL about the scrapped idea. It would be interesting though. Well, she cursed at Morgana because she still has her pride, and Morgana really insulted her. Wow. You think I write Arya best? Thanks.

BrainDrain: Oh, yes. I do love denial. Murtagh won't be mad at her. You'll see what happens with the rest. I agree with you about Eragon. Glad you liked the Trianna thing. LOL about Garrett Hedlund.

Stripysockz: Thanks so much for the Hathcyn/Trianna idea. Eofor finding out? Interesting. Interesting. I hope you liked the E/N part in this chapter. There'll be more later, possibly next chapter if they're in it.

ANGEL-OF-DEATH6: LOL. So did everyone else. You'll find out when and whom she tells. I'm glad you liked the Hathcyn idea. You're the only person besides my friend Amy who picked up on that. I love Cassio to death. He and Emilia are my favorite people in Othello. Damn people for not reading more Shakespeare. I hope you liked this chapter.

Maze2010: Yeah, it'll irritate Murtagh as soon as he comes back into the story. (Next chapter, I swear.) Eragon has had the baby talk thankfully, though it would be funny if he hadn't.

KewlKid: Thanks. I hope you liked this chapter.


	21. What You Make of Me

What You Make of Me

_So, I must be taken as I have been made. The success is not mine, the failure is not mine, but the two together make me._

_-Estella in Charles Dickens' _Great Expectations

Disclaimer: Don't own. Don't sue. Thank you.

Morgana sat on the wooden chair. She briefly glanced up at the man sitting across from her. Damien. Medea's older brother. Her uncle. He was terribly intelligent—the court expert on everything including cartography (his purpose in the room) –but he never seemed to have anything interesting to say, and if by chance he did, he couldn't say it in an interesting manner.

"So, when will the red rider be here?" Damien asked, his voice monotonous as always.

"Soon," Morgana said. "His real name's Murtagh." That was another annoying thing about him. He was always so formal.

"He's awfully late," Damien continued. So, he was impatient too. There was one thing that they had in common.

"Yes, he does that," Morgana said.

"It annoys you?" Damien asked.

Morgana rolled her eyes. Did this man know nothing of facial or vocal expressions?

"I suppose it does," Damien said, surprising her. Perhaps he was really her uncle after all. "So, how am I going to map what is in your memory of someone else's memories?"

"We're going to scry it," Morgana explained.

Damien's eyes bulged. "That's impossible." Morgana smiled. His voice had lost its monotone for a whole sentence.

"With the king nothing is impossible," Morgana said simply.

"Well, I've learned that, but…this. It's deadly. Beyond human magic!" Damien was continuing to yell. He was actually becoming animated.

"I know it is," Morgana said. "That's why Murtagh is taking so long."

Damien stared at her.

"Energy reserves," she said simply.

"From whom?" Damien asked.

"Prisoners," she replied. "It doesn't matter whether they die or not. Well, we can more from them if they die."

"So, that's what you do?" Damien asked.

"Yes," Morgana replied. She glanced at Damien's face. He looked disappointed. Did he really expect her to be like Medea? True, he barely knew his niece, but he should have known better, considering the type of life she'd led. It was far different than his sister's had been.

At that moment, the door opened, and Murtagh strode through, carrying a large emerald.

"Oh, you got the elf's," Morgana said. "Appropriate."

"The king demanded it," he said, his voice almost a whisper and devoid of emotion. "Is that the bowl?" he asked, pointing at a large diamond basin sitting on the table.

"It is appropriate," Morgana repeated. "I'm going to scry the memories in the water for a second, and you have to trap the scry there so that I don't have to keep holding it."

Murtagh stared only at the emerald as Morgana walked over to the bowl.

"Pay attention," she snapped. "If I die…"

"Be patient," Murtagh chided. "I can't do that as it would displease his majesty."

Damien's eyes widened again. "Threats against a lady?" he managed to stammer.

"She's no lady," Murtagh snorted. "Besides, it wasn't a threat. Move along."

Morgana stood over the basin and focused on all the memories of trips between Du Weldenvarden and the Varden. She'd need them.

"You can't scry them all at once," Damien shouted as though he'd anticipated her actions.

"You're right," Morgana said. She glanced at Murtagh. He'd known that. She sneered at him. So, they'd have to scry all the elf's memories at different times? This would take forever.

Morgana walked out of the room hours later. The first completed map of Du Weldenvarden since before the fall was in her hands. Damien had drawn it, but she had found the information. The elves would fall, and she'd have the credit for it. The power of that coursed through her veins. She'd done her greatest deed ever. She had won. Now Galbatorix would see her worth more than he'd ever seen it.

"Where are you going?" a male voice asked as she walked past her room. She turned to see Brecca, leaning against a wall, his face half obscured in shadow.

"I have something for the king," Morgana replied. "Why are you still here?"

"That's nice," Brecca said sarcastically.

Morgana took a deep breath. "You don't understand," she whispered. "You need to leave here."

"_You _don't understand," Brecca replied, gripping her wrists. "You owe me for helping your break the elf."

"I'll pay you now," she said, "but you have to leave."

"Why?" he asked. "What danger is there now for me?"

"I made a deal a few years ago. Part of it included you now being here," Morgana explained.

"By a few years, you mean five, correct?" Brecca asked.

"Yes," Morgana said. If he had figured it out, the deal was done, and he was dead.

"That's when you stopped coming," he said simply. Morgana breathed a sigh of relief. He didn't know all about Lilith.

"You can pay me after you're done with the king," Brecca said quietly. "I'll wait here."

"Wait in my room," she said quickly.

"You're nervous," he remarked. "You don't get nervous."

"I have a reason," she said.

"I wish you'd tell," he said.

"That would give me even more reason to be nervous," she replied.

"Fine, I'll hide in there," Brecca said, "but won't your servants notice?"

"They don't stay in that part," Morgana replied, unlocking the door. "You see, there's a back door, and there's a front door. They're only allowed in the front one."

"Clever," Brecca mumbled as he stepped through the door.

Morgana continued down the hallway. She hoped she wasn't late. Lateness always required a reason, and she couldn't give any other than the truthful one, and of course she didn't want to give the truthful one.

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Galbatorix looked up from his desk as he heard the knock on the door of his study and began to count to five. The guard announced Morgana on two. Good. It wasn't an assassin. He could easily kill them, but they were such a mess and sign of unwanted rebellion.

"You have the map?" he asked coolly, glancing up at her. She handed him a scroll which he opened. "Well done," he said.

A look of disappointment crossed Morgana's face. She'd expected more.

"You're wondering why you're getting no reward?" he asked.

Morgana said nothing.

He met her eyes and stated, "Your magician friend has appeared again. You know that that goes against our deal."

"I needed his help to break the elf," she said.

"You wanted to see him again as well. Honestly, I thought maybe after five years and gods only know how many other lovers, you'd be over him. You show an uncharacteristic amount of nostalgia. It had better not be anything other than that," Galbatorix said.

"How could it be?" she muttered.

Galbatorix sighed as he ran his finger over the map, stopping briefly at Kirtan. "If you mean that you are cold, heartless child with the body and virility of a woman, then I have no objection to that. If you mean something, then that is a different matter entirely."

"I am what you make of me," Morgana said.

"Explain," Galbatorix said. "You cannot mean that it is my fault you are as you are?"

"Where do you think I got it from?" she asked.

"Medea would have given you your virility and looks at the very least," Galbatorix said.

"That is all she gave," Morgana said.

"Are you accusing me of being like you?" he asked. "You're sadistic. You're cruel. You're vain. Jealousy runs in your blood. You hate with such ease and love with such difficulty."

Morgana laughed. She couldn't help it.

"Stop it!" Galbatorix yelled, rising.

"How can I?" she asked. "If I am so cruel and so vain? How can I care if I hurt you when I love with such difficulty?"  
He slapped her, and she fell to the ground. Her laughter increased.

"You are insane!" he screamed.

"Was Medea insane?" Morgana asked. "Did she ever hurt anybody? Tell me. I'm interested."

Galbatorix grabbed her by the shoulder and pulled her to her feet, his other hand going to her neck. She didn't stop laughing.

"Stop it now, or they both die!" Galbatorix yelled.

Morgana stopped and sank back to the ground, massaging her throat.

"You can't kill Lilith," she murmured. "She's too valuable. She's your link to the Vault. Ever since Erksken died, you've had to rely on Medea. Ever since you killed that link, you've had to get your bloody power through a five year old."

"That is only because you are so damn useless that I couldn't channel spirits' power from you," Galbatorix hissed.

"But you need her," she mumbled. "Your Foresworn medium is gone. Your willing servant is gone. Now you have your little granddaughter who doesn't even know her worth. What if they knew? Hmm. What if the Varden knew?"

"The Varden don't know, and they won't," Galbatorix yelled.

"That's why Saphira's egg disappeared. Ersken killed himself. I guess the strain of working for you who are never satisfied got to him. Tell me: Which death was worse: Ersken seventh or Morzan last?" Morgana taunted.

"I will kill your magician if you see him again," Galbatorix said. "I was going to give you one more time with him as a reward, but I've decided against it. Now get out of my sight."

Morgana got up and left after giving a curtsey.

_Is that why you can't bear to look at her?_ Shruikan asked him. _Because she reminds you of what you really are?_

_Shut up, dragon,_ Galbatorix muttered. _That girl is bad enough. _

_I know. She's normally so loyal, isn't she?_ Shruikan asked. _Now she's blaming you to your face for what she is._

_It's her fault. None of it is me,_ Galbatorix said. _I've never punished her before. _

_That's because she's never dissented before,_ Shruikan said. _Actually, I don't think she even dissented this time. _

_I gave you an order, dragon,_ Galbatorix said.

Shruikan stopped talking to him, but he couldn't sever their link. Only Galbatorix could do that.

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Morgana leaned over the balcony railing. She'd failed. It hadn't been an obvious failure. For the most part, she'd look successful. She'd broken into the mind of an elf, something not even Durza had been able to do. She'd been so sure that her father would love her or at least respect her after that. But she'd done it the wrong way. Anything that involved Brecca was the wrong way to do something, and it had been ever since she'd made that deal. And nobody could do the right thing the wrong way with Galbatorix.

_Don't see him again, and he lives. See him again, and he dies. He won't get power from you or the child._

She stared down into the courtyard below. The lights were out, and the sky was just beginning to darken. It occurred to her that she couldn't see that ground. It also occurred to her that it would be so easy to just climb over the rail and fall. It wouldn't take any work. Just one jump, and it would be over.

The sound of footsteps brought her out of her reverie. She stood up and back away from the edge. She almost laughed. She'd actually been considering jumping. One small setback. That was all Galbatorix's anger was was. She still had power. She'd still mapped Du Weldenvarden. She still had her mind vault. She could still hide if she needed to. She managed to convince herself of this just as Murtagh rounded the corner.

"Did you happen to notice the dragon with the injured rider in his back in the courtyard?" he asked.

"Oh, so you can see in the dark now?" Morgana snapped. "First you try to get me killed…"

"Your uncle saved you. I just wanted to see how careless you could be," Murtagh said.

"You'd like to see me dead, and you know it."

"And you wouldn't like to see me dead?"

"Get the elf," Morgana said, cutting him off. She wasn't in the mood for an argument.

"What?" he asked.

"You heard me," she said. "Get the elf."

"Why?"

"She's going to heal him."

Murtagh just stared at her.

"Hathcyn's injured, isn't he?"

"Yes, but why Arya?" he asked.

"On first name terms, are we?"

"Why Arya?" Murtagh repeated.

"I decided that she'll be working for Hathcyn," Morgana said. Murtagh's face briefly contorted with an emotion somewhere between anger, concern, and jealousy. This amused Morgana even more. "You really didn't think I'd give her to you, jealous creature that I am? Or was it demon that you called me?"

"I'm sorry," Murtagh said through clenched teeth.

"No, you're not, and you won't change my mind" she said, laughing slightly. "Now, you get the full elf, and I'll get the half elf."

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Murtagh walked down the corridors, stewing inwardly. Something about Arya as Hathcyn's slave incensed him. She was a full elfin princess. He was some half-elfin thief who said whatever he felt like saying and did whatever he felt like doing. It wasn't right. They shouldn't be together. He couldn't stop thinking of all the things that Hathcyn could do to her if she were his slave, and it made him angrier. He tried to shake the images of Hathcyn holding her, touching her, caressing her, and he found that he couldn't. It shouldn't bother him this much.

_It shouldn't, but it does,_ Thorn said. _Honestly, Murtagh, do you think that he's that bad? He wouldn't force her to bed him, even if it was only because he didn't think it would give him any pleasure._

_That's comforting,_ Murtagh said sarcastically.

_Oh,_ Thorn said. _Now you're worried that she'd go to him because he's partially part of her race. _

_It's not just that,_ Murtagh said. _It's wrong. _

_Slavery is wrong,_ Thorn remarked. _I don't think Hathcyn's the best master that she could have in this place, and I don't think that he's the worst. _

_If he wasn't he wasn't the worst, why is he her master?_

_He's not the worst for her, but I'm guess that Morgana knows that he'd be the worst for you. You know that that woman can't stop trying to avenge herself for whatever wrong it was that you did her._

_I stopped loving her,_ Murtagh said. _I stopped worshipping her whether she scorned me or embraced me. _

_I didn't say that she was sane,_ Thorn muttered. _Why were you with her?  
I was young, and I was stupid, and she came across like she was something else,_ Murtagh admitted.

_I'll forgive you then if you don't make the same mistake with the elf,_ Thorn said.

_Arya and Morgana are different,_ Murtagh said. _Besides, I've learned. _

_If you say so._

_I do. _

_Oh, by the way, I'd wipe that angry expression off of your face. Arya might not like it, and she might ask you why your face looks like you've been forced to eat toenails. _

Murtagh growled slightly and took a deep breath to calm himself. It worked, at least a little.

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Arya was sitting on the bed, attempting to meditate. She needed to clear her thoughts. She couldn't afford any rage at Morgana, and she especially couldn't break down again. It would be the end of her if anyone found out about her baby.

She nearly jumped as she heard the door opening, but she managed to keep herself poised. Murtagh stood there, contemplating her. She took a deep breath. She was slowly losing her ability to remain completely poised around him. It had started in Dras Leona, and it had gotten as bad as Arya had hoped it would get when she'd found out that he was her unborn baby's father.

"Did Morgana tell you what your job was to be?" he asked, a slight edge on his voice.

"The new rider's slave? Yes, she told me," Arya answered, managing to keep her voice emotionless.

Murtagh watched her as though he desperately wanted to ask her something but had decided against it. Could he know about the baby? Arya mentally shook herself. There was no way that he could know. He hadn't looked like that after he'd healed her, and that would have been when he'd noticed if he'd noticed at all. But what if he'd just thought of it? She took a deep, calming breath. She had to stop being so paranoid, and if she couldn't stop, she had to learn how to hide it.

"What's wrong?" Murtagh asked.

"What do you mean?" she asked. He'd noticed her nerves. She had to hide it better. "Was that what you wanted to ask me?"

"What?" he asked.

"You looked like you wanted to ask me something," she said.

Murtagh stared at her, his dark eyes meeting her own. She stared back, knowing how it always seemed to affect him at least a little.

"I was simply asking you what you thought of your new job," he said after they'd both dropped their eyes.

"I wouldn't know considering I haven't even started it, can I?" she asked, pulling her arms around her body instinctively. She felt suddenly cold as soon as she said that. She didn't know how Hathcyn would treat her. She was afraid of what he'd do to her. There were certain things she would never do, and she was afraid she'd be forced to do them. All she had was her illusions. That wouldn't be enough.

Murtagh put a hand on her shoulder and asked, "What are you nervous about?"

"My oncoming slavery, perhaps," she said.

"Understandable," Murtagh agreed, sitting down beside her. She didn't move.

"Is he honorable?" she asked at last, trying to sound casual. She decided that asking him the question wouldn't hurt anything.

"Define honorable," Murtagh said after a pause.

"You know what I mean," she said.

"I don't think that he'd force you to do something that you didn't want to do," Murtagh said. "He's rather annoying though. You might not get away with your sanity."  
"I might not get away at all," she said before she could stop herself. A look of sympathy crossed Murtagh's face, and Arya cringed. She didn't want his pity. Or did she? Did she want more? She got up off the bed and walked over to the table. She felt a strong hand settle on each of her shoulders, both squeezing them lightly.

"Think that, and you won't survive," Murtagh whispered into her ear. She decided that she liked the feel of his lips on her ear in spite of herself.

She turned to face him, pulling away. "I'll survive," she said quietly. "Just watch me."

"Optimism is all we've got," he said.

"It's not much," she said.

"It's there," he retorted.

She shook her head and said, "You must really pity me. You're probably the least optimistic person I know."

"Forgive me for trying," Murtagh said in a faintly sardonic voice.

"I'll forgive you for that," she said. Murtagh looked at her as though he understood what she meant.

"You need to come heal the half elf," Murtagh said. "Morgana has decided that it's the perfect way for you to start your…occupation."

Arya followed him out of the room. Maybe if she healed him well, he'd treat her better. That was it. She'd be good, and hopefully he'd treat her that way.

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_You will not take him,_ Eofor said pointedly to Morgana.

"Why not?" she asked. She had to speak her words aloud as Eofor had forcefully blocked her from his mind.

_I don't like you, and I don't trust you,_ the green dragon told her.

"I'm doing this for his good. He's injured, and he needs healing," Morgana insisted.

_Is there no one else?_ Eofor asked. The reminder of his rider's current condition made him slightly less stubborn.

"I won't be healing him," Morgana said. "I'm simply taking him to be healed. Besides, I wouldn't hurt him."

_You'd better not,_ Eofor told her.

"He's on my side, isn't he? He's my lover, isn't he? Why would I hurt him?" Morgana said exasperatedly.

_Don't remind me,_ Eofor said.

"Oh, yes," Morgana said. "You're the unwilling one. The rebel. Listen. I have no intention of harming your rider or of rebelling against the king. It can't be done successfully. Surely you've learned that by now."

Eofor lunged forward at Morgana, and she jumped back fearfully. The dragon grinned toothily at her.

_Do not look down on those bigger than you,_ Eofor advised, _and don't try to teach me about rebellion. I'll teach myself._

"Just let me take your rider," Morgana said with a forced calm. She was breathing heavily, and only her eyes were raised to Eofor's face.

_Just have him healed,_ Eofor told her bluntly.

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Morgana levitated Hathcyn brought him back to her room. It was a difficult task, but she doubted that she'd have been able to do it manually. When she finally arrived there, she set him down on a chair and nearly jumped when she was that there was someone else in the room.

"Oh, Brecca," she said.

"I'm waiting for my money," he said, his eyes focusing on her face rather than on Hathcyn.

"Let me see," she said, walking towards her purse. "You've missed how many shows?"

"Six," he replied.

"And you make how much money a show?" she asked.

"Fifty to sixty crowns," he replied. "Idrian's drilled the figures into my head."

"How many a day?"  
"Three."

"So, that's sixty times nine? That's…five hundred forty crowns," Morgana said, shoveling out the money.

"Yes," he replied. He looked to Hathcyn again, whose head was lolling. "I thought you said you didn't want anyone knowing I was here."

"Oh, he's unconscious. I doubt he'd know if you were his long-lost brother, let alone who you are—were, I mean—to me," Morgana said.

"Always in denial," he muttered with slight amusement. He looked more closely at Hathcyn, his eyes widening as he examined his features.

"What is it?" Morgana asked.

"What was it you said about him being my long-lost brother?" Brecca asked.

"I simply said he wouldn't know because he's unconscious," she said, puzzled.

"Well, it's funny how that phrase works out, isn't it?" he asked, putting his hand behind his neck nervously.

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Okay, who was expecting that twist? Damien's character was elaborated on because he'll play one more important role later on. Anyway, I don't have much else to say except for responding to the reviews.

Roguelane: Thanks so much. I had it all planned out in my head, but I wasn't sure how it would play out on paper. So, Ghost Rider wasn't all that good? I like Nic Cage, but I'd never put him as Johnny Blaze. Oh well. There was a little Murtaray in this chapter. I hope that you liked this. Thanks so much about how I write the characters. I try to keep them in character and add some more dimension to them. LOL about the Eragon thing. I really should have known. Those theories piss me off so much. I think Paolini'll do it, as cheesy and stupid as it is. If Arya falls for him, it should not be because her dragon fell for Eragon's. I just wonder what these people think would happen if, oh, say Saphira and Thorn fell in love if they're still going on the dragon love thing. Besides, Saphira hasn't fallen for Arya, and Eragon didn't fall for Oromis or Glaedr, so I'm not even sure if that theory will work. There isn't much for Eragon/Arya, at least not reciprocated. I mean, she says that she doesn't love him in the Ancient Language. That's sad, isn't it? Oh well. Now that I'm done ranting about how much I despise Eragon/Arya, I'd better go on to the next response.

CaramelBoost: I'm glad that I got somebody worried for a second. Yeah, they were all probably thinking that it's too soon to be doing something like that, which it is. Well, Eragon doesn't really believe Hathcyn. You'll see more on that later, hopefully in next chapter. I'm glad you thought the thing with Eofor and Saphira was cute. I'm sure if I like that pairing, but I couldn't resist putting that little line in. There'll be more Morgana friction when Hathcyn wakes up, but there was plenty in this chapter if I do say so myself. I hope that this chapter lived up to your expectations by the way.

Shara: You'll find out about the pregnancy. Yeah, that last chapter was strange. The kiss was basically a way for Hathcyn to distract Trianna and so was the semi-revelation. Eragon was more enraged at Hathcyn for "lying" because he has Arya on this pedestal and doesn't believe it. The news will come so that he actually believes it later.

MysticLegend11: Sorry about that. It was basically just a big battle scenes, which can be boring or interesting depending on your tastes. I threw that in there to show that Eragon isn't the only person who fights. Well, I guess you get that from the books, but whatever. Sorry if you didn't like it. It might have been better without it. I don't know. It was also for the Hathcyn/Trianna thing that I'm considering. I'm kinda tired right now. Of course, it's my fault for deciding to do crew, which is actually really fun despite the fact that I have to row on the freezing cold harbor water at 5 AM, but whatever. I'm glad you liked the revelation (even if Eragon doesn't believe it and Hathcyn isn't 100 sure). He was just doing the first thing that came to his mind to get away. I skipped lines for paragraphs last chapter because you have to indent every time someone starts speaking. I think that some of it had to do with POV. Like I said, I'm tired.

Fredsonetrueluv: LOL. Yeah, he did. I'm glad you liked it. You'll about Eragon. Well, he has Arya on too high of a pedestal to knock her down just because our devious little halfie started making random comments about it.

Mayarider: Thanks so much.

Stripysockz: Thanks. I'm glad it works. It's a very workable pairing. I just need to get them in situations together. I'll do more on that later. Eragon doesn't really believe it yet, but I see what you're saying about the Nasuada thing. The next chapter will probably have them in it. Yeah, Eragon's getting hurt was Hathcyn's fault, but we sometimes blame ourselves for things that weren't our fault. Wow. You really think Eofor is the coolest dragon? Thanks. Sorry about the grammar errors.

Queenmab: Yeah, we all know about your fangirlishness. Of course, I fan girl Cassio, so I'll back off. LOL about Benvolio. No, I wouldn't kill any major characters so soon.

ANGEL-OF-DEATH6: Desdemona's pretty good. I see what you're saying about her feminism. She was really a great person. I liked how she defended Othello even after he killed her (well, right before, but whatever). I liked Othello at the beginning and the end. He was a good character even if he wasn't my favorite. I think that Iago wins best and evilest villain ever! Darth Vader is cool, but he's not completely evil. My two favorite Othello characters are Cassio and Emilia. I like Bianca too even if she's minor. My two favorite R and Js are Benvolio and Mercutio. I'm glad that you liked it. Yeah, it was too soon to kill off somebody big. sigh Old Witless Wonder is going to have a hard time when he finally comes to terms with Murtarya. I'm glad that you think that Hathcyn fits. I tried to make him do so, so that's nice to here. I see what you're saying about E/N and M/A. They're two different romances. You'll see about the baby. I'm not quite sure at the moment. I don't care about ranting. Long reviews do me good.

Maze2010: LOL. Wow. I made Eragon bearable? Thanks. I'm thinking of parodying the chapter where Eragon gets undeniable M/A proof. (I'll write the serious one in this fic, and then I'll make a separate parody chapter. Well you'll see.) Murtagh will get more annoyed later on, though he did get quite annoyed this chapter. Like when Hathcyn starts hitting on Arya. In front of him possibly. Oops. Said too much. No, that doesn't make you a bad person by the way.

Treeonfire13: Eofor only scratched her once. I forgot about that. Glad you like it.


	22. Brotherly Bitterness

Brotherly Bitterness

_I don't believe an accident of birth makes people sisters or brothers. It makes them siblings, gives them mutuality of parentage. Sisterhood and brotherhood is a condition people have to work at. _

_Maya Angelou_

Disclaimer: Don't own. Don't sue. Thank you.

"Funny?" Morgana repeated. "What do you mean by 'funny?' You can't mean that he's your brother."

Brecca just looked at her.

"Can you?" she asked.

"I can," he said, "and I do."

"But how?" she asked.

"My mother had more than one child with the same man," he said.

"So you're a half breed too," she whispered, staring down at Hathcyn. "Elf's got a nasty job ahead of her," she muttered to herself as she fingered the wound in Hathcyn's side, causing him to jerk slightly in pain.

"How do you know that?" Brecca asked. "Why is he here? Last I saw or heard of him, he and my mom were dying of the plague in a village on Sharktooth."

Morgana took one of Hathcyn's hands in her, pulled off the glove, and held it up to Brecca. The older half-elf's eyes widened.

"Rider?" he gasped. "But old Hathcyn? He isn't..."

"I don't know what he was when you knew him, but I think he's become more since then. Was he a thief when you knew him?"

"Thief? I knew he used to take my things when he was mad at me, but I always made him give him back real easy," Brecca said.

"Couldn't possibly be because you did that stupid voice-illusioning thing or whatever it is you called it?" Hathcyn said groggily, opening his eyes.

"Well, you shouldn't have been taking my things," Brecca argued.

"You shouldn't have left us to die," Hathcyn retorted.

"You were both ready to die. What was I supposed to do: die with you?" Brecca asked as though the answer were obvious. "Sides, you're alive," he added, a hint of guilt coming into his voice. "Really, there was nothing I could do."

Hathcyn tried to rise out the chair to get at Brecca's throat but fell back gasping, the pain splitting his side.

"Feel like you got stabbed there, eh?" Brecca asked.

"Isn't there a pretty little saying you used to say?" Hathcyn asked. "What was it? Let sleeping dogs lie or something?"

The doorknob turned, and Morgana hissed, "Get in the next room. Nobody's allowed to go in there either."  
Brecca hurried into the next room.

"He wasn't here. Do you understand?" she hissed at Hathcyn.

"My brother who I haven't seen in six, seven comes back out of nowhere after running like a coward, and I'm supposed to pretend that he wasn't there?" Hathcyn asked.

"Unless you want him to get killed," Morgana said before she thought about it. In hindsight, that might not have been the best thing to say.

"Fine," Hathcyn said. "I've got stuff to say to him anyway. I'd let that person in by the way. They don't look like they have a key."

Morgana got up and opened the door.

"Finally," she said to the elf. "It took you long enough."  
Arya stepped through the door and glanced at Hathcyn, who was lying on the chair. He was awake, but his face was almost white from blood loss, and he was wearing a rather pained expression.

Morgana grabbed her wrist without so much as a by-your-leave and turned a key in one of the locks on her wrist.

"Heal him," she ordered.

"Sorry if I'm causing you any trouble," Hathcyn said weakly. It seemed almost absurd that Arya, an elfin princess for crying out loud, was being made to tend to him.

"Don't apologize," Morgana snapped. Her voice softened as she said, "She's your slave. She has to do whatever you want."

"Slave?" Hathcyn repeated, puzzled. He'd never thought that he'd be the type to own a slave or even a servant for that matter. It was ridiculous, really, to give a full-blood elf-princess to some half-breed thief-rider. Then again, Galbatorix seemed to do everything differently. Maybe different wasn't so good. Or maybe it was. The elf was definitely something to look at after all.

He could almost feel Eofor trying to protest against this notion. The next moment, he really did feel Arya put a hand on his side and mutter healing words.

Arya leaned on the chair as she healed Hathcyn. It was harder to heal him than it had ever been to heal anyone. She felt the child in her womb pulling on the magic the energy and over two months without her magic catching up to her. She'd forgotten how it felt to use it. She'd forgotten how to measure her strength. At last, Hathcyn was healed, and only a long, thin scar up his side remained.

"What do you think?" he asked Morgana teasingly.

"You're an elf, and you couldn't get rid of the scar?" Morgana asked Arya condescendingly. "It's not bad though," she added to Hathcyn.

"May I leave?" she asked Hathcyn, ignoring Morgana.

The woman slapped across the face and shouted, "Listen to me when I speak."

"I listened," Arya said quietly. "I thought that the answer was obvious. Besides, could you have healed it at all?"  
"I'm not an elf," Morgana said.

"You can leave," Hathcyn added to Arya. "I have some unfinished business to attend to."

"Should I go back to your rooms?" she asked.

"Yes," Hathcyn decided. "Do you have a key?" he added to Arya.

Morgana reached into pocket of her skirt, pulled out a ring of keys, went through them a few times, unhooked one, and handed it to Arya, who took it and left.

"Hathcyn," Morgana said, moving forward and placing her hand on his arm, "you need to leave now. I have to get your brother out of here. He can't stay here much longer."

"Speaking of him, why is he here in the first place?" Hathcyn asked.

"I needed his skill as an illusionist to break into the elf's mind," Morgana said.

"Uh huh," Hathcyn said. "So, how do you him?"

"I saw one of his shows when I was fourteen," Morgana said.

"And you still remember when you're…what?" Hathcyn asked.

"Twenty," Morgana replied.

"Uh huh," Hathcyn said.

"It's irrelevant," Morgana said.

"Oh, yes," Brecca said. "I mean, you only a kid because of that."

"How did you know that?" Morgana demanded.

"I'm not stupid," Brecca said.

"Wait. You slept with him?" Hathcyn said.

"Why does he care?" Brecca asked Morgana.

"Well, you're not stupid," she said.

"Oh, dear gods, you slept with my little brother?" Brecca asked.

"I'm so little anymore," Hathcyn said.

"Stop fighting!" Morgana shouted. She turned to Hathcyn and said, "I need to sort things out with him. I'll sort them out with you later. Then you can sort your problems with him."

"But I'm supposed to be leaving," Brecca put in.

"He can go see you at the theater," Morgana said. "He's not forbidden to do that."

"No, we work this out now," Hathcyn and Brecca both shouted at the same time.

"We don't have time," Morgana objected.

"No, you just haven't figured out a way to talk to both of us at once," Brecca corrected.

Morgana slumped back into the chair that Hathcyn had just left and sighed.

"You had to get into a situation like this once, didn't you Thaïs?" Brecca asked. Morgana looked up to meet his cold blue eyes. She couldn't quite tell if he was amused by the situation or angry at it. Perhaps it was a mix of both.

"Don't call me that," she said. "It's insulting."

"It is not," Brecca said.

"Who was Thaïs?" Morgana argued. "A woman who made her lover burn a city on a whim?"

"She didn't make him," Brecca argued. "She asked, and he granted. That's all that you have to do to get any man to do something to do."  
"If all I have to do is ask, why won't one of you leave?" Morgana asked.

"You see, that's the one request that you can never make," Brecca said, balancing his hands on the arms of the chair and leaning his face in closer to hers.

"Oh, gods, do you have to do this in front of me?" Hathcyn groaned. "Do you always have to remind of what you have that I don't?"

"You could leave," Brecca said.

"If I leave, it's over," Hathcyn said.

"What's over?" Brecca asked.

"Forget it," Hathcyn muttered as he left the room.

"So," Brecca began, still leaning over Morgana's chair, "what exactly about this child of ours is so terrible that I can't even be near you?"

"The king does not wish for you to have power over her or me," Morgana replied.

"What is the king to you?" Brecca asked.

Morgana met his eyes and stared him down. "Nothing that concerns you." She tried to pull away from him but found that she could not.   
"Father or lover? Which is it?" Brecca asked.

"Employer," she said.

"Torture."  
"Yes."  
"That's what I meant about Thaïs. You got me to torture a person whose half my race, and I'm not a particularly sadistic person."  
Morgana reached for the purse at his side, pulled it out of his belt loop, emptied it into her hand, and poured it back into it.

"I make more money than you gave me," Brecca said, dumping the coins that were hers into her lap. "I got to see you again. That was payment. Idrian'll kill me, but I'm sure the he made plenty of money. Besides, I can just make it all up tomorrow, can't I?" He pulled away from her and went to leave the room.

"You don't want your money?" Morgana asked, standing and cocking her head to the side in subconscious imitation of her daughter.

Brecca turned and fixed her with a strange stare.

"Haven't I already answered that?" he asked.

"No," Morgana said, stepping closer to him.

He looked her up and down and closed the distance between them, pressing his lips against hers in a breathless kiss. Neither knew how long they stood there, pressed against each other, their tongues fighting for dominance and hands roaming. At last, the need for air ran out, and they broke apart.

"Have I answered your question?" Brecca asked.

"Yes," she said, raising an eyebrow.

Brecca ran a hand over her face and said, "If you need help because of the king or your father, you know where to find me."

"You'd have to make me disappear," she muttered as he left the room. Morgana turned and walked into the parts of her chambers where the other maids were allowed.

"Corinth!" she shouted, calling for one of them.

Arya stood quietly by the door of Hathcyn's room, waiting for him to return. She only wished that she could have heard the conversation that Morgana had been having with the rider through the door before she'd finally been allowed to enter, but the room seemed to have been spelled against eavesdroppers. She was willing to bet that it had been something important, something more than just a lovers' meeting, if indeed, Hathcyn and Morgana were lovers. Arya wasn't sure.

The door opened just then, and Hathcyn trudged through it, looking angry fit to burst. This surprised the elf. From the little that she'd seen of Hathcyn she hadn't thought that he possessed a temper. Now it appeared as though he did. She grimaced inwardly. This wouldn't be good.

Hathcyn barely acknowledged Arya as he threw himself down on his bed. He put his hands on his head to contact Eofor but found that he couldn't. He cursed in anger, something that he rarely. He had once again grown accustomed to the bond that he had with Eofor, and it hurt to have it torn away again. He sat up suddenly and looked at Arya.

"Hey, elf," he said.

"Yes?" she asked demurely, stepping a bit more into the light.

"Could you take a message to my dragon?" Hathcyn asked.

"Why can't you take it yourself?" Arya asked before she could stop herself.

Hathcyn seemed too distracted to notice it. "Galbatorix severed our link," he explained, trying to sound casual, but Arya could tell that he was deeply troubled by it.

"Does that make you angry?" she asked, coming to sit next to him on the bed. Maybe, just maybe, she could convert him enough to let her go. She leaned into his ear. "Does it make you want vengeance?"

Hathcyn looked at her, his lips quirked in amusement. "Trying to turn me already, eh, elf?" he asked, stroking her cheek lightly and running his finger through her hair as he leaned closer. Arya pulled away quickly.

"It's alright," the half elf said. "There's no fun in force." Hatchyn let his hand drop and stared down at it. It was marked with the gedwëy ignasia. At least that still shone as a reminder of his bond with his dragon.

For some reason, Arya found Hathcyn's use of the word elf one hundred times more offensive than Murtagh's use of the term vanyali. Hathcyn's usage seemed to have a certain careless air to it, as though he couldn't remember what he name was in the first place and was just using the name of her race so that he'd have something to call her. With Murtagh it felt as though he knew her name but had chosen to select a name especially for her.

She put her hand instinctively on her stomach and closed her eyes. She then removed her hand and shook her head. What if Hathcyn noticed and put two and two together? She glanced at him out of the corner of her eyes. He was still staring at the hand with which he'd caressed her.

She shook herself mentally. She had to stop this. She had to stop thinking of Murtagh with any sentimentality and to stop alluding to her baby in any way, shape, or form. Even that stomach touch could prove telling in the presence of someone who was actually paying attention.

"So, about that message," Hathcyn said, breaking the silence.  
"What do you want me to tell him?" Arya asked.

"Tell him that he was right about Morgana," Hathcyn said.

"I shall, "Arya said. She'd decided that it was best to not question Hathcyn further. He'd probably end up bedding her and not letting her pull away, whatever he had said about force.

"Great," Hathcyn said before proceeding to give her instructions to the dragon hold.

"_Lilith," a woman with auburn hair was yelling desperately. At first the girl thought that it was her mother who was talking to her, but the voice wasn't right. _

"_Kuthian, two rocks of Kuthian. Without them he is nothing. Not Vroengard. Not Vroengard. Find the legend of Kuthian, and find the Vault." _

Lilith's blue eyes opened as she sat up and panted, her orange hair drenched in sweat. She didn't understand the dream for the life of her. She had never heard of Kuthian, though the name did sound powerful. She had heard the name Vroengard before though. But what was it? But did it matter? It wasn't right. And what Vault was the woman talking about?

She got up off of her bed in the side room of the infirmary and snuck out, being careful not to awaken Deandra. The healer would probably tell her that it was a just nightmare and have her go back to sleep.

She peaked through the door.

"_Greyfolk,"_ the same voice whispered.

"Who's there?" that old woman—what was her name? Something with an A?—asked, tensely sitting up on the bed.

"Me," Lilith said quietly.

"Oh," the A lady said, leaning back. "You look frightened."

Lilith hesitated. Even a five year old knew that people weren't supposed to hear voices. But then again, how did she explain Elva?

"Come here," the woman said, beckoning her. "What is it?"

"Who is Kuthian?" Lilith asked, deciding that it didn't matter. After all, what did it matter if the woman knew it or not?

"Kuthian?" the woman repeated. "Nobody to me. Why do you ask?"

"I dunno," Lilith said with a shrug. "I heard somebody mention him, so I assumed that he had to be somebody to somebody."

"Who did you hear mention it?" the woman asked.

"I forget," Lilith said nervously.

"Oh, it's alright," the woman said in soothing voice. "It's just that the last person that I've even heard of who had that name died long ago, long before I was even born."  
"Oh, you're not that old," Lilith said laughing. "I mean, maybe you're fifty or sixty, but that's not that old. Deandra's only thirty seven, and she always calls herself old."

"Child, I'm over two hundred years old," the woman said quietly, leaning back against the bed.

Lilith's eyes widened. "Two hundred?" she asked breathlessly.

"Andizhan of the Greyfolk. That's what I was called before the king captured me and brought me here. That was seventeen years ago. I was immortal before that."

"Immortal?"

"You'll never die."

"Why aren't immortal anymore?"

"I gave it up."

"For your daughter?" That was the one thing that Lilith remembered most about Andizhan.

The woman nodded.

"But what about Kuthian? How did he die? Who was he?"  
"Kuthian was an elf who lived before the dragons made the elves immortal," Andizhan said softly. "He was impetuous, rash, and young, but he fell in love with an older woman—not an old one, mind you, just an older one—and he became her mate. They say that she tamed him, making a better man, and taught him all that she knew of plants, which was a lot, even for an elf for she had chosen loneliness for so long."

"How did he betray her?" Lilith asked.

"He grew bored with her and cast her aside for one who was his age and every bit as rash and impetuous as he was. But this didn't sit well with Linnëa, his scorned mate, for he had given her a taste of life beyond her beloved plants, and now that he was gone, they were not enough. So Linnëa found him and killed him a rare fit of passion. But this one rare fit was enough, and Linnëa had killed the man she loved, so she went to the oldest tree in Du Weldenvarden—that's the elves' forest—and sang herself into it. To this day that tree still stands. It's called the Menoa tree, and it guards Du Weldenvarden."  
"How can a tree guard?" Lilith asked, cocking her head to the side.

"I used to wonder that too until I saw it," Andizhan whispered. "I can't explain it to you. There aren't words to describe. You have to see it for yourself."

"Alright," Lilith said. "Is there anything that I can get you?"

"No," Andizhan said. "It's a shame really. I was getting better, but then I took a too-long walk, and now I'm weak again."

"I'm sorry," Lilith said.

"There's nothing you can do about it except get back to bed so that you won't get weak," Andizhan said.

Lilith nodded and walked back into her room. She'd tell Elva what she had learned tonight. The girl always seemed to understand things better than she did.

"Wake up," a male voice said levelly.

Morgana opened her eyes and looked up to see Galbatorix standing in the corner of the room.

"What is it, your majesty?" she asked groggily.

"I came here to give you a warning," Galbatorix said.

Morgana winced.

"If anyone but you had said what you said to me last night, they would be dead," Galbatorix said quietly. "Luckily for you, I remembered your usefulness. And as for Medea, I thought that you would have her talents. You didn't. That was your first failure. Lilith would have been your second failure if she didn't have the Vault connection. Last night was your second failure. Be careful not to commit a third and outweigh your usefulness."

Galbatorix moved closer to her and forced her chin up to meet his eyes.

"You're so cold," he said.

"I don't feel cold," she mumbled.

"Your heart is cold," Galbatorix said. "It's stone, not ice. I think that your magician friend believes that it's ice. What's the difference between ice and stone, you ask? It's simple, really. What can you do to stone but break it? The only way to make your heart less cold would be to destroy you. But ice can melt. He thinks that he can unfreeze your heart and make you feel. Lilith does too. But they can't. Nobody can."

The words themselves were cruel, but the way the king said seemed as though he were speaking the truth, revealing every secret to her, complimenting, telling her the right way. It was hypnosis. The thing that Brecca called voice illusioning.

Morgana closed her eyes at the thought of Brecca and said, "You are cold too," before she could stop herself.

"Morgana," Galbatorix said, using her name for the first time in a long time.

"It's not bad. Why shouldn't you be cold, and why shouldn't I? You lost your dragon to the old riders, and they did nothing for you. I lost my mother, and my father doesn't care," Morgana said.

Galbatorix snapped her head up farther, breaking the hypnosis. It didn't seem to have a good effect on Morgana.

"We do have a right to be cold, don't we?" Galbatorix said, "But is it a bad thing?"

Morgana shook her head, and Galbatorix smiled. She so rarely rebelled. What had happened last night was a rare occurrence. She might be despicable, but she was loyal.

_Takes one to know one,_ Shruikan muttered.

_Dragon, is there anything that you can gain from this?_ Galbatorix asked saccharinely.

_Petty, ill-considered, and short-lasting satisfaction,_ Shruikan said.

Galbatorix severed their link. Shruikan was useless for conversation. He was finding that to be a frequent problem nowadays.

He paused in the doorway and said, "You might want to mend relations with the half-elf. With the elf as his slave, he'll your influence the other way. Be creative. You always are."

I humbly apologize for the length of time it took me to update this. I have been very busy. In fact, I have spent most of my time at a trailer park, shopping, writing about achondroplasia dwarfism and how great Lorenzo Medici, doing other various homeworks, and going to Church. Yeah, I've been busy. Sorry again. As for the lack of Murtagh, I swear he will be in the next chapter. I can't do review responses right now. I'll send them via pm.


	23. It Can't Be Helped

It Can't Be Helped

_The awful daring of a moment's surrender which an age of prudence can never retract. _

_-T.S. Elliot _

Disclaimer: Don't own. Don't sue. Thank you.

Arya walked through the gray granite and black marble doors of the dragon hold cautiously. It had taken her forever—really until a little after dawn—to find this place. Galbatorix seemed to want to keep it hidden, and Hathcyn must have forgotten about that. She wasn't sure if anyone was there, and if someone was there and that someone should be Galbatorix, the results could be disastrous. She knew that what she was doing for Hathcyn went against his orders, and if she was caught, she would be punished for it as would the green rider.

She passed by the largest door, which she assumed must house Shruikan, and listened to make sure that nobody was there. She almost jumped when she heard a voice speaking and then was shocked when she realized who was speaking to the dragon. She was intrigued as well, so she stayed crouching next to the smaller opening that presumably for human use. The hold had no ceiling, so that must be how the dragon's got out. As for her staying to eavesdrop, Hathcyn had failed to give her directions, and she could always cite that as her reason for taking so long.

"He's not angry at me anymore, but he's set to a nearly impossible task," Morgana was saying.

_Re-enchanting the half-elf? He doesn't have to be in love you, and I don't think that he is. He doesn't seem like a very loving person,_ Shruikan replied. _Nevertheless, he does find you attractive, and that should be enough. _Apparently, the black dragon hadn't expected anybody to be listening and thus hadn't shut off his connection.

"It's not that he doesn't love. He's not so trusting, or at least he's not anymore. I think that he likes his dragon at least."

_Yes, at least he likes his dragon,_ Shruikan replied bitterly. _At least his dragon chose him. _

"It does no good for us to rebel," Morgana stated. "It won't bring your old rider back."

Arya heard Shruikan shift places and heard Morgana's breath catch in her throat. There was a pause before the ebony dragon said, _I know that. You don't need to remind me._

"I suppose this is why you don't like me," Morgana said.

_I don't dislike you,_ Shruikan said. _If I disliked you, I wouldn't waste so much time talking to you. _

"I thought that you said that you were just bored and in need of something to do, so that is why you allowed me to come and sit with you when I was ten," Morgana said.

_I'll admit that I was bored, and you were a better person then,_ Shruikan remarked. _Now don't roll your eyes. You were. He's turned you more and more. It's what he did with all the Foresworn. It's how Morzan turned my own rider. _

"Morzan turned your rider?" Morgana asked with uncharacteristic curiosity in her voice.

_He made her fall in love with him, and then he killed her,_ Shruikan, his voice so hollow and devoid of emotion that Arya felt her heart go out to him for a moment. He was beyond tears or anything else. It sounded as though his first rider's death still festered within him like an old wound that didn't sting or burn anymore but simply gave off a deep, continuous pain.

"Hm," Morgana said.

_That's why I like you. Because of what you did to Morzan's son. You see, sometimes you remind me of my old rider,_ Shruikan said.

"I do?" Morgana asked.

_Your pride and some of your expressions do, _Shruikan replied.

"You take vengeance wherever you can find it, don't you?" Morgana asked.

_Yes, I do. I need to. It would be even harder for me to rebel than it would be for you. He doesn't have your true, but he has mine,_ Shruikan said.

"Without him I have nothing," Morgana retorted.

_What do you think I have? Who would accept me after what I've done? And I need to be bound to him. I can't _not_ have a rider. It's been too long,_ Shruikan told her.

"Why are we arguing about this? It's pointless. Neither of us is rebelling anytime soon," Morgana muttered.

_That's what we have Eofor for,_ Shruikan said with some amusement.

"If he wants his connection with his rider back, he won't," Morgana remarked, though it clearly amused her too.

The mention of Eofor reminded Arya of her task, and she slowly moved away from the door, hoping that her elfin stealth wouldn't fail her and that neither Morgana nor Shruikan would hear her.

She jumped and spun around as she felt a hand settle on her arm. She relaxed slightly when she saw that it was Murtagh, not Galbatorix. He opened his mouth to speak, and Arya put a finger over his lips and shook her head before nodding in the direction of Shruikan's chambers. Murtagh listened and seemed equally shocked to hear Morgana speaking to Shruikan. Arya put her hand on his arm when he moved towards the door to surprise Morgana. She mouthed the words, "She can't know I'm here," at him, and he nodded in understanding.

She released her hold on his arm and walked on, aware of the fact that Murtagh was following her but no wanting to say anything until they were out of sight. After all, he was probably going to see Thorn or ask her why she was in the hold. Nonetheless, she turned and glanced at him to show him that she knew he was there. Murtagh shrugged and continued to follow her. She heard his pace quicken, and soon he was at her side.

"Why are you here?" he whispered.

"I need to see Eofor," she told him.

"I'll take you to him then," Murtagh replied.

Arya was about to protest but then realized that she had no clue where she was going.

"It's this way for starters," Murtagh said, pointing to the left with some amusement; Arya had been going to the right. "Thorn is to the right."

"Well, thank you," she said, walking away from him. She didn't want to be near him too long. She didn't want a repeat of Dras Leona. She'd been impulsive that night, and that had gotten her into her current condition. That was what she had decided to refer to it as: her condition. Her pregnancy was too blatant, and she didn't like blatant. She felt her stomach clench, and a wave of nausea swept over her as she vomited, clutching her stomach. Tears sprang into her eyes. Why did her punishment have to be a child? It was wrong to her and to the child.

She felt Murtagh's arms wrap around her waist to support her.

"What's wrong?" he asked after she had finished.

Arya shook her head.

"Did Morgana poison you?" he asked.

"I don't know," she replied. She was fairly certain that Morgana hadn't poisoned her, but she couldn't very well tell Murtagh that she was pregnant. But supposing Murtagh went to Morgana? "I just might have caught something while I was imprisoned. I might just be getting used to real food again. I don't know."

"You keep saying, 'I don't know,'" Murtagh remarked. "I've never heard you say that before now." He relinquished his grip on her waist and turned her to face him.

"Well, this I don't know," Arya told him, meeting his eyes determinedly.

"You're crying again," he told her.

She looked away and said as levelly as was possible, "I am perfectly fine. Now if you don't mind, I have to deliver a message to my master."

"Does he treat well enough?" Murtagh asked.

"So far," Arya replied. "I've had him for a day, so how should I know? Now, could you please show me the way?"

"Of course," Murtagh said, walking past her. She followed him through the many twisting passages and staircases of the hold.

"This is incredible," she remarked. "There's so much here."

"There are armories, rooms for the rations, and equipment rooms besides the dragon's chambers," Murtagh explained. "It's also useful to make it harder for any intruders to find the dragons. If you were here with harmful intentions, they would it before you got to them, or they'd leave."

"Interesting," Arya said. Galbatorix might be her captor and her race's greatest enemy, but he was certainly clever if he was nothing else.

"Now, tell me what's wrong," Murtagh ordered as they walked on. He was clearly hoping to catch her off guard.

"I am afraid," Arya admitted after a pause. "I don't know what's wrong with me, and I don't know what I'll do here."

Murtagh looked at her out of the corner of his eye. There was pity and understanding there. He said nothing. He didn't seem to know what to say.

"I would offer you help," he told her after an extremely long pause. "I just don't know what help I can give."

"As always," Arya said as she continued to walk, not noticing that Murtagh had stopped. She felt a hand grab her arm and turn her around.

"What do you mean by that?" Murtagh demanded, both of his hands settling on her shoulders.

"You always claim that you can't help anybody, that you can't do anything about your oaths, that none of this is your fault. You still have some choice. You didn't have to come after me," Arya said, pulling away and turning away from him. To her disgust she felt tears of frustration springing into her eyes again. She didn't need all of this emotion right now. She knew it was because she was pregnant, and she hated it. Murtagh grabbed her again. This time he pinned her to the wall.

"I would have let you go if you hadn't taken the egg," Murtagh hissed. "I have healed you twice. I am helping you do _your_ job. All that you've given me is comfort on a lonely night."

The echo from Arya's slap rang throughout the hold. Murtagh took a step back, holding his hand to his cheek.

"Don't speak to me that way!" she shouted. "I'm not just some whore of yours."

"I don't treat you like one," Murtagh told her.

"Oh please," Arya said. "All that you do to me. Always trying to make it happen again. Always touching me. Always…." Arya paused. She'd run out.

"Always what?" Murtagh asked, speaking into her ear. He'd come closer to her.

"This is exactly what I mean," Arya said.

"Surely you've noticed that most men want you at least a little," Murtagh said. "Why do you care then? I haven't forced you to do anything, and I won't."

Arya opened her mouth as she resisted the urge to lean backwards.

"It doesn't mean that you've stopped trying," Arya said quietly.

"Your heart's beating so fast I can hear it," Murtagh remarked. "What does that mean?"  
"Does it matter?" Arya asked.

"Yes, it does," Murtagh replied.

"I don't know what it means," Arya told him. She took a step forward, but Murtagh's arm snaked around her waist and pulled her closer.

"Do you know what I think it means?" Murtagh asked.

"No," Arya replied.

"I think that you want me too," Murtagh told her.

She pulled away from and turned to face him. She had no words for him. "You arrogant…" she began before he covered her lips with his. To her utter horror, she found herself responding and enjoying it. She didn't need this now. Not after what had happened last time.

"Eofor's down the hall," he called after her sounding somewhere between amused and annoyed at her reaction.

She reached a large, stone door and climbed through an opening similar to that on Shruikan's door. Eofor put up his head and looked at her.

_You're not Lilith,_ he said, sounding somewhere between confused and suspicious.

"I know," Arya said. "I am Arya, your rider's new slave."

_You're the elf,_ Eofor said, a hint of realization entering his voice. _You were there at my hatching. _

"I was," Arya agreed. "I am here to deliver a message to you now."

_Will you be doing that from now on?_ Eofor asked.

"I don't know," she replied. "Anyway, your rider wanted me to tell you that you were right about Morgana."

_Good. I'm glad that he finally understands that she-devil,_ Eofor said with a certain satisfaction in his voice. _She hurt you, didn't she?  
_"She was my torturer, yes," Arya replied.

_I'm sorry,_ Eofor said. _Are you fine now?_

"I think so," Arya said. Eofor didn't look thoroughly convinced.

_You feel different than you did when I first saw you,_ he remarked.

"I don't know why that is, but I must get back to your rider," Arya said quickly. She hoped that the dragon couldn't sense her condition. She walked out of the hold quickly and stood there, trying to remember the way out. She mentally cursed Murtagh for leaving her and Hathcyn for failing to give her directions.

_You want to know the way out? _Eofor asked her, sticking his head through the door.

"Yes, I would," Arya replied.

_Then come on. I'll fly you out of here,_ the green dragon offered.

"You'll fly with one who's not your rider on your back?" Arya asked, puzzled.

_You want to get out. I'm going to take out. Why protest? _Eofor asked. _Besides, you're Hathcyn's slave even if you do have things to hide. Be good to him, and I'll be good to you. Agreed?_

"Agreed," Arya said.

Eofor nodded, approval shining in his emerald eyes, and pulled his head back into the hole. Arya followed him through it.

_I was never unsaddled last night, so just climb in,_ Eofor told her. Arya nodded and climbed into his saddle.

Eofor took off without warning, and thus Arya experienced her first ride on a dragon while she was conscious. She felt a thrill rush through her veins. They may not be flying very high or very fast, but there was something exhilarating about being up in the air with only Eofor between her and falling and the wind in her hair and on her face. The landing was the best part of it. The feeling of falling downward and then catching herself was wonderful. She wished that life could be like that. She wished that you could make a mistake, and then it would be alright or that you could stop yourself from making it at all.

But was Murtagh truly a mistake? He'd helped her in his own strange way, and she thought that in some strange ways she'd helped him. They'd both pleased each other. No, it was still a mistake. She was still pregnant with a baby who could cause so much danger for her and itself as soon as its presence became known. It wasn't that she didn't want a child; it was that she couldn't afford to have one now, and she most certainly couldn't afford to have one with Murtagh. But she was pregnant. She'd fallen and nobody could catch her.

She turned to Eofor and said, "Thank you for flying out of the hold, and thank you for giving me my first conscious flight on a dragon."

_You're welcome,_ Eofor said. _Do you really mean that you never flew on Saphira?_

"Only once, and I was unconscious then. She, Eragon, and Murtagh rescued me from Gil'ead," Arya replied.

_Gil'ead? _Eofor asked.

"It's one of the Empire's largest cities," Arya explained.

_I see that I must learn more about this Empire, _Eofor said as he spread his wings and flew back into the hold.

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"Why are you here, Lady Nasuada?" Angela asked the Varden's leader, who had just entered the infirmary, without even lifting up her head.

Nasuada didn't even bother to ask how Angela had known that it was her. She simply said, "I was wondering how Eragon was doing."

"His breathing's normal. His pulse is normal. His wound is healed nicely even if he does have a bit of scar. I doubt it'll pain him as much as the one Durza gave him did. He just has to awaken," Angela reported, leaning over a table to write something.

"Why not?" Nasauda asked.

Angela put down her pen and looked up. "I'm not sure why. It could be some sort of inner turmoil."

"Maybe it has something to do with Arya?" Nasuada suggested. She was a bit surprised to feel an unidentifiable emotion flare up in her stomach as she alluded to Eragon's infatuation with Arya.

"That's likely," Angela admitted.

"I'm confused about something, Angela," Nasuada said. "How did the green rider manage to wound him like that? It seemed to me from what I observed of their fight that Eragon's magical abilities exceeded his."

"I'm guessing that the green rider said something to him," Angela said. "Probably something about Arya."

_It was,_ Saphira said. Nasuada and Angela both turned and saw Saphira's face in the window. _He implied that she'd lain with Murtagh in Dras Leona, and that that is how she got the egg. It seemed like an act of desperation, and Eragon didn't believe him, but it's still troubling him. It doesn't help his dreams. I'll say that much._

Nasuada looked to Eragon's sleeping face. He did seem troubled by something. Surely he couldn't believe it. But was it so far-fetched? Arya would do anything for her people. That much was certain. Would lying with Murtagh be included in that? It could be. But would Murtagh…? Arya was beautiful after all. It could have happened.

She recalled all the details. It seemed as though Murtagh hadn't willingly given Arya the egg. If he had, he wouldn't have gone back to capture her. Unless perhaps his oaths had made him? But would they have let him give her the egg at all? Maybe.

It still seemed most likely that Arya had stolen the egg from Murtagh, but she had said that he had given it to her. If the former was true, then Arya had lied. But why? Had she been unwilling to frighten them before they went into one of the most heavily guarded and most dangerous places in Alagaësia? But surely Arya would have had the common sense to warn them. Unless…she had lain with him, and she didn't wish to reveal it. But surely she could have lied about how she had come to steal it and still tell them that she had still stolen it from them? But Murtagh had told them how to get into Helgrind. Perhaps he had given her the egg, and then the oaths made him come and get it. That made the most sense. But that didn't completely rule out the idea that Arya and Murtagh had lain together. Maybe that had been why Murtagh had given her the egg.

Then again he could have given her the egg because he felt guilty about his oaths. He had let Eragon go. Then again, he and Eragon had been friends, and that had probably influenced that particular decision of Murtagh's.

He and Arya did have similar personalities though. Maybe he'd decided to give the egg to a member of the Varden and a kindred spirit. But he could have done that and gratified himself at the same time. Perhaps the real question was: Would Arya have lain with him? Murtagh was handsome; there was no denying that. But would Arya have found him so? She was used to elfin men after all. If Eragon's transformed features were any example, they were exceptionally attractive in a manner that both differed from and exceeded human attractiveness.

But lying with each other would have been completely senseless, and Murtagh and Arya were probably the two most sensible people that she knew. Then again, what did passion do to common sense? She wasn't sure. She'd had a little experience with men in the form of a few kisses, but nothing more than that. Perhaps there had been some attraction between the two, and passion had taken over…No. No. It couldn't be. Arya and Murtagh wouldn't do that. She wasn't sure which would upset her more: Arya betraying the Varden to a certain extent or Murtagh slaking his lust with Arya. Neither thought particularly appealed to her. She had been attracted to Murtagh, and she didn't particularly like to think of him and Arya together that way. She put her hands on her face and took a deep breath. There was no use puzzling over all this. They need to rescue Arya, and if it was true…well, they'd have to wait and see.

"Lady Nasuada, I'm going to leave now," Angela told her. "Stay as long as you like. Just don't fall asleep there.

Nasuada nodded and placed her hand on Eragon's. She felt him shift slightly and squeeze it before pulling away and rolling over. He made a slight, distressed sound. She leaned over him and spoke his name quietly.

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"_Can you stop pursuing me? Can you promise me that?" Arya was asking him in the glade. _

"_You and I, we are the same, Eragon. Mirror images of one another. You can't deny it," Murtagh was whispering into his ear. _

"_No," Eragon tried to yell. His voice wouldn't work. _

_The red-haired woman's black eyes met his through the scrying bowl. A small and victorious smirk played across her rouged lips. She turned to the broken Arya, and the smirk widened. _

_Arya's tear-stained face turned to his. "You said that you'd go to the ends of the earth for me. You said that you'd build a palace for me with your bare hands. Will you not save me?"_

"_Let her go!" Eragon tried to tell the torturer, and the woman began to laugh, flashing her ivory teeth. In his nightmare, they were pointed. Her face transformed into Durza's. _

"_Do you really think to defeat me, Du Sundavar Freohr? What a pitiful name. I would have expected something more subtle from you, but I suppose that's all you're capable of," the shade whispered mockingly. He felt a sword split his back open, and he screamed in pain. _

"_Ah, yes," the green rider said, pretending to remember something he'd forgotten. "How did she get into such a situation with your brother that could possibly and more or less enable to rob him? Well, I'll tell you what I observed. The pretty little elf walks in, throws an overly ardent suitor into a table, is greeted by our acquaintance, goes into a room with him, and comes out alone in the morning carrying something. Now, what do you make of that?" The sword cut through his neck. He couldn't fight back. _

_A new vision flashed before his eyes. He saw Arya straddling Murtagh, their lips pressed together as though they were trying to devour each other. He saw Murtagh move his kisses away from her lips, down her jaw line, nipping at her throat, and then he saw his hands move to the lacings at the back of the elf's shirt while Arya moaned and arched into his touch, her legs wrapping more tightly around his waist and her hands gripping his shoulders more firmly. _

_A hand gripped his comfortingly, and he gripped it back before away and whining in distress. That last vision wasn't right. It wasn't happening. It hadn't happened. It never would happen. _

"_Eragon," a female voice whispered. _

"_She didn't do it! She didn't do it! You're lying. You're lying, rider. You're lying," Eragon was shouting. _

"_I know she didn't," the voice continued. "Sleep. Rest."_

_He felt a hand massaging his side, and he turned back towards it. He leaned into something soft yet firm and placed his hand on it, sighing in approval. _

_--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------_

Nasuada gasped slightly when Eragon placed his hand on her thigh and leaned his head against it. She decided that the feel wasn't bad; it felt rather nice in fact. Besides, he needed comfort. She couldn't leave him. Not now.

_Thank you, _Saphira told her. Nasuada could have sworn that she sensed some emotion other than gratitude in her voice. Was it approval? Perhaps. Maybe it was…was it permission?

She leaned forward and moved Eragon's head into her lap. It was safer there, she decided. She felt his hand settle on her knee as he slept there. He gave another sigh of contentment. Then, he suddenly shifted.

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_The temporary peace of the warmth of another's body had been broken. _

"_Do you love her?" a voice was whispering. A picture of Arya sleeping against Murtagh flashed before his eyes. _

"_She didn't do that," Eragon protested. "It's not real. She's too good to do that."_

"_Nobody is perfect, rider. Did you think that they could be?" the voice asked._

"_Who are you that you can lie to me like this?" Eragon demanded. _

_The voice laughed. "I do not lie to you."_

"_You do!" Eragon shouted. _

"_Believe it, boy?" the voice asked. This time the picture was of Murtagh and Arya kissing in a stone chamber. _

"_Liar!" Eragon shouted. _

"_Not this time, boy. Not this time," the voice mocked. _

"_Eragon!" the same urgent female voice cut off the other voice. "Eragon, it's fine. Nothing's wrong. You're safe."_

"_Arya's not," the other voice teased. _

"_Stop it," Eragon shouted. _

"_Eragon, shush. It will be alright," the female voice soothed. He felt a comforting hand on his shoulder. He turned and pulled the female towards him. He needed her. She was all he had to keep himself away from that voice and those visions. _

Why don't you love her? _a different female voice asked. It was Saphira. _

_--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------_

Nasuada's eyes widened in shock as she felt Eragon pull her down and towards him. His hands caressed her back, his fingers ran through her hair, and his arms held her in a tight but gentle grip.

"Don't go," he begged when he felt her trying to pull away. "Please. Just stay awhile with me."

"I will, Eragon," she said quietly, moving herself into a slightly more comfortable position. She decided that she might as well close her eyes and sleep.

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Okay. That's the end of chapter twenty three. Sorry about how long it took me to update. Anyway, I have an important question to ask you all: Which character do you all think should die in this fic? You may not pick Andizhan, Galbatorix, or Morgana, as their fates have already been decided. I need a good guy who isn't already on the brink of death. As for the next chapter, we have a rude interruption, a conversation between Morgana and Hathcyn, another lesson for Murtagh and Hathcyn, and quite possibly a very interesting conversation between Murtagh and Hathcyn. If a new plot bunny doesn't bite me and make me change all that happens, that is.

Parnagan: No. Thanks.

Cassie Winchester: I won't. I gave more E x N. I hope you all liked it.

Tofucakes: Thanks so much.

CaramelBoost: Oh, I forgive you. I do expect a ramble this time though. LOL. JK. I'm glad that you liked that line.

Stripysockz: Thanks. I had fun writing that scene. You'll see where the storyline goes with that next chapter. I think it'll be the first scene in fact. I did a little more with that coldness towards Galbatorix in that chapter. I proofread this chapter this time, so I hope that my grammar's better than it was last chapter. As for the late reviews, it's fine.

Coolhassen: Oh, I won't. Next chapter is pretty much plot stuff. I might try something like that with Shruikan or possibly Eofor. I like Frodo too. My personal favorites are Aragorn and Sam though. Gandalf is cool as well. I didn't like how Frodo went to the Grey Havens, but I think that he had to go to be healed of all that evil that was in the ring and all of us wounds.

Lady Shana: Thanks.

Kewlkid: I'm glad.

Treeonfire13: Don't worry. There was plenty of Murtagh in this chapter. Hatchyn may or may not find out. I'm still considering that.

Shara: Yeah, I see what you mean about the detail. I'm glad that you liked Hathcyn in that chapter. I had to give him an angry side. Arya was just being bland on purpose because she sees Hathcyn as a means of escape. You're right about Morgana. I'm glad that you're starting to like Brecca though.

Maze2010: Yeah, I wrote my paper on Lorenzo Medici yesterday, and I turned it in today. I've resolved not to worry about it until I get it back, which even my teacher admits will be along time. He did promise us that they will be graded before summer is over, but I have a fear that my greeting Sophomore year will be him giving back my persuasive essay. Ugh. No, none of the dragons care for Galby. I think it's understandable though considering the fact that he's enslaved them all. I hope that I didn't worry you this time.

Queenmab: shifts eyes Maybe…LOL. I'm glad you liked it.

Jimmy-barnes-13: Thanks. Glad you liked it.

Fredsonetrueluv: Yes, she is. You're right about next chapters. They are useful. I hope that you liked it. As for the Maya Angelou quote, the internet is a wonderful place.


	24. Lilith's Walk

Lilith's Walk

_She has great possessions there; her walls are exceeding high and her gates great. Her hall is called __Sleet-Cold__; her dish, __Hunger__Famine__ is her knife; __Idler__, her slave; __Sloven__, her maidservant; __Pit of Stumbling__, her threshold, by which one enters; __Disease__, her bed; __Gleaming Bale__, her bed-hangings. She is half blue-black and half flesh-color (by which she is easily recognized), and very lowering and fierce._

—_Brodeur translation_

Disclaimer: Don't own. Don't sue. Thank you.

"So, Blöd Helmingr," Galbatorix began, studying his nails rather than Hathcyn, "you successfully burned the rebel base at Feinster. Suffice it to say that that is all that you did right."

"Well, wasn't that what I was supposed to be doing?" Hathcyn asked.

Galbatorix closed his eyes and opened them again, releasing air through an O he'd made with his lips. "You can be so annoying. Are you aware of that?"

"My brother told me that more than a few times," Hathcyn replied.

"Ah, yes," Galbatorix said, touching his thumbs and his forefingers to his forehead. "Your brother. Brecca. The illusionist and the half elf. The root of my discomfort."

"Well, all he did that had anything to do with you was Morgana," Hathcyn remarked.

Galbatorix clicked his tongue and said, "You're annoying me. Again. Honestly, I'd have thought your punishment would have taught you a lesson by now. If not…"

"It has," Hathcyn said hurriedly. "I've never rebelled. I've never done anything."

"It's not as though I've been a bad father," Galbatorix said. His eyes had acquired a far off look.

"Um, alright," Hathcyn mumbled, clearly puzzled.

"I arranged for her upbringing, and I made sure that she was taught everything that she needed to know. She's picked up other…behaviors, but it means little in the end. She uses most of what she has to her advantage. If she is cold or cruel, I am not at fault. She is. I didn't raise her. It can't be my fault," Galbatorix continued.

_Delusional,_ Shruikan murmured. The black dragon gasped as an icy dagger was plunged into his mind.

_Baen! _Galbatorix shouted.

Shruikan felt as though his entire body was on fire. He tried to scream, but it burned his throat and his larynx. He wanted to take back whatever it was that had enraged Galbatorix so much, but his brain could not comprehend or remember anything other than pain and his master's name. Spots danced before his half-masted eyes, and they slowly became the only thing that he saw as unconsciousness swept over him.

"Am I delusional?" Galbatorix shouted to Hathcyn. "Well? Am I?" The king has lowered his hand, and he was clutching the sides of his throne. If it hadn't been made of stone, he would have surely crushed it.

Hathcyn shrugged. "Not that I've seen."  
"Could a delusional man have toppled the riders?" the king demanded.

"Probably not," Hathcyn said.

"Could a delusional have held this empire against all that the Varden, the elves, and the dwarves have thrown against me?" Galbatorix continued.

Hathcyn's response was the same as before.

"Are you incapable of giving me a straight answer?" Galbatorix shouted.

"'Probably not' was a straight answer," Hathcyn said defensively. "I don't know much about government or about you, so I don't know if you're delusional or if you could've run a kingdom if you were."

"Calm down, boy," Galbatorix sniffed.

Hathcyn almost gaped at him. He made sure to store away his current thoughts about Galbatorix's hypocrisy in telling him to calm down in his mind vault. It was useful. It was just a shame that it wasn't useful enough to allow him to commune with Eofor.

"So, back to the problems at the base," Galbatorix said. "I really didn't appreciate you almost killing the blue rider. We need his dragon. She's the only female left. However, it wasn't completely damaging. That little hint that you dropped before you wounded him? Brilliant. It's making it all too easy to torment him while he's recovering."

"Um, I was trying to keep him from killing me," Hathcyn said.

"Yes, yes," Galbatorix mumbled. "You need more power. You need to be able to hold your own against him without resorting to your previous methods."

"Yeah," Hathcyn agreed.

"You're rude, you know," Galbatorix remarked.

"Sorry," Hathcyn said. "It's a thief thing."

"You're not a thief; you're a rider," Galbatorix stated. "You just need the power of one." He shouted the name, "Larson!" and a tall slave with dark hair and swarthy skin came in through a door in the throne room. "Fetch me Morgana, tell her to get Draumr abr Andlát from Damien, and then tell her to bring me Lilith along with that."

Larson nodded and bowed. He decided that he might as well get Damien and the potion first considering the fact that he had no clue Morgana would be, but he'd served Damien before, and he knew the man rarely left his study unless he had been ordered to do so.

He knocked on the door. There was no answer, so he knocked again. After five repetitions of this scenario, the short, dark-haired man finally opened the door.

"What is…I know you. Who are you again?" Damien asked.

"A slave who used to serve you," Larson answered. He'd long since learned that nobody really cared what his name was. Galbatorix only knew it so that he could differentiate between him and his other slaves.

"Oh, yes," Damien said. "I remember. You were the one who ruined my notes, weren't you? Good notes, they were. They were about the making of Draumr de Andlát. It's an old potion, used by the elves before their war with the dragons. It can have some very nasty side-effects, but it's useful, and I'm the only one who can make it. Not even that healer woman—what's her name?—well, it doesn't matter. Anyway, not even that healer woman can make it. Anyway, it's useful if you want to fake your own death or travel into death that is. I don't know why anyone would, but some people are strange. And I suppose that it could have uses for sacrifices…"  
"Milord, the king requires that potion," Larson interrupted.

Damien blinked. "Oh, he does? Well, you see, I finally managed to finish my notes, and then I repaired them, and then I made a draught of it that was put to use only last year. It worked. I just finished making a new draught. I hope that it works. It can have very nasty side-effect on the drinker."

Larson decided not to mention that Damien had already said that. He followed the man, who had just exited the room and was still talking in that same, monotonous, rambling tone.

"Particularly if my great-niece is to be the drinker again. She's only five, but she didn't take too badly to it last time. Of course, it took her a little while to get out of the trance even after she got out of death, but she was only four then, so she might be better adapted to it this time, and I have made an antidote. I honestly thought that my niece—her mother, that is—was going to murder me. She didn't though. That was good."

"A girl named Lilith will be the drinker," Larson told him, privately wishing that somebody—anybody—would kill him right then and there. Damien's ramblings were one thing that nobody could ever become accustomed to.

"Oh, yes, that's my great niece," Damien said.

"I'm also supposed to find the Lady Morgana. Where is she?"

"Somewhere, I suppose," Damien replied.

Just then, a red-haired woman rushed past them, muttering something under her breath.

"Oh, Morgana," Damien called out, clearly immune to the woman's annoyed state, "the king is looking for you."

"Tell him that I'm looking for the half-elf and that I can't find him!" she shouted back, turning to face both men. Her features were incredibly striking and might have been beautiful if her face hadn't been contorted in annoyance.

"Oh, he wants you to get Lilith. Apparently, she needs this again," Damien said, holding out the vial.

Morgana took it and stared at it. "Why?" she asked.

"Probably for the same purpose as last time," Damien said. "He probably thinks that the half-elf needs powers from the…"

Morgana gave him a look that cut him off. Larson wished that he could glare like that. Then again, it probably wouldn't serve him so well.

"There's also this," Damien added, handing out another, smaller vial. "It's the antidote."

"You can go back to the throne room," she said to Larson. She turned to Damien and added, "You can go back to wherever. He won't need you."

Damien walked away, looking something close to eager to be getting back to his notes, and Larson headed back to the throne room. When he arrived, the king abruptly stopped the conversation that he had been having with the half-elf.

"You stand there," Galbatorix ordered, pointing to a square of white marble in the center of all the black.

Larson did as he was told, a sense of doom coming over him.

"What do we do?" he heard Hathcyn asked.

"We wait for Morgana and Lilith," Galbatorix replied.

And wait they did.

Morgana stared at the vial in her hand: the dream of death; that was what it was called. It was the world's most puzzling potion. It could simulate death for a day or two, depending, and it could be stopped in the veins by one who knew how and then released at a later time. That was what would have to be done with Lilith. The little girl would have to take it ahead of time. She just hoped that the antidote would work.

She shook her head. Of course it would work. Everything that Damien made worked. She had to stop worrying. It wasn't good for her. She hardly knew her daughter, and she didn't want to until the girl was old enough to know better than to want to be like her mother. It was what was best. She liked Deandra, after all, and Morgana never had. Yes, it would work. It wouldn't be the same as it had been with her.

She slowly opened the door to the healer's ward. She found Lilith in there by herself.

"Lilith, do you remember what you had to do for Uncle Murtagh last year?" Morgana asked.

Lilith nodded. "I didn't like it," she added.

"Listen, your grandfather wants you to do it again," Morgana explained. "This time it's for the new rider. You like him, don't you?"

"Yes, but I don't like not knowing what I'm doing," she replied. "And it made me sick. And it tastes bad."

"Well, it's been made better," Morgana said, trying to keep her patience level high and her voice level low. She was barely achieving it.

"I'll do it," Lilith said moodily.

"Good," Morgana said. "Now, come here. It'll only work when I say it'll work, understand?"

Lilith nodded and drank the vial as Morgana chanted something.

"There's one more thing," Morgana added.

"Hmm?" Lilith asked.

"Is there anything that you want to hide from your grandfather?" she asked.

"One thing," Lilith said, thinking of Elva.

"I can hide it for you," Morgana offered.

"Will you see it?" Lilith asked.

"No," Morgana replied. "Just focus on what you want to hide, and I'll create a little box in your mind for you to keep it in."

"Promise you won't look?" Lilith asked.  
"Promise," Morgana said.

The little girl took a deep breath and thought of her conversations with Elva. She gasped as she felt something pulling her thoughts away and shoving them into the back of her mind.

"That felt weird," Lilith remarked.  
"It's supposed to," Morgana told her. "It's good though. You can keep your secrets there."

Larson turned around when he heard the door open. The red-haired woman walked through with a little girl, orange-haired girl of about five. His back was now to Hathcyn, who was looking rather conflicted about something, and Galbatorix, who was looking rather pleased.

"What's wrong?" the king asked. "You get your connection back after this."

Larson knew better than to turn around and question what had just been said.

The girl walked to the square on which he stood and stared up at him. She was chewing on her lip nervously. Galbatorix came up to her and handed her two vials.

"I-I have to prick your finger," Lilith explained.

Larson held out his hand, puzzled. The girl took a small pin and pricked him. A drop of blood fell into the vial. She repeated the action for the other vial, and then did the same for the green rider. Hathcyn stepped back after she was done.

Morgana closed her black eyes and mumbled something. With that, Lilith dropped to the floor, and her breathing stopped.

Larson was at her side and checking for a heartbeat in an instant. There was none. Had the woman just killed her own child?

He gasped something shot through his back and into his heart. That was the last feeling that he ever felt.

When he opened his eyes and got up, he groaned slightly. He'd been lying prostrate on a cold, stone floor. He looked up and saw the girl, Lilith, standing over him. She held out a hand to him, and he took it. Or at least he tried to. His hand passed through hers. That didn't make sense. He could touch everything else, so why couldn't he touch her? He might have been dead, but…

Oh, gods. He was dead. He'd never cared for life. It had been full of chores, beatings, cruelty, and degradation, but now that he had left it, he'd take his life of slavery back. He tried to take a breath but found that his lungs wouldn't do anything. Either that, or there was no air. This wasn't fair. True, he'd rarely known anything that was fair, but this…this was more wrong than anything that he'd known so far. He was only…how old was he? He didn't even know his own birthday. All that he knew was that he was around nineteen or twenty. And now he'd been killed from behind along with this little girl.

"I'm not dead," the girl said. Her voice sounded strangely hollow, and its lack of echo in the narrow, dank passage puzzled him.

"Well, you're here with me," he said.

"I'm not dead. I'm under a trance so that I can pass into death," she said. Her blue-gray eyes met his for the first time since he'd been alive. That last part made him shudder. That, combined with the fact that the girl's pupils were now unfocused pinpricks, almost made him collapse, but he stayed sitting. He'd gotten used to staying strong in life. But he was in death now. What was the point? But maybe he wasn't dead. Maybe there was some fluke, like there was with this girl.

"Then why am I here?" he asked, his voice full of hope.

"She needs your spirit," Lilith replied.

"Who?" he asked, his curiosity overcoming the despair that his death had been confirmed by another. "Who needs me?" His own voice echoed through the passage.

"I'll show you," the girl said. With that she turned and walked on, looking over her shoulder only once to make sure that he followed her. He did. He could think of nothing else to do but follow this final order. After all, what else was there for him to do?

After what seemed like hours in the tunnel, Lilith stopped abruptly. Larson caught up with her, focusing on her form rather than the ground beneath him. With a shout that resonated through the tunnel, he fell down. When he looked up, he saw Lilith standing beside him, dusting off her clothes absentmindedly. She wasn't looking at him though; she was looking straight ahead. Larson slowly followed her eyes and thought that he saw a movement in the shadows.

"Why do you come here, little medium?" the strangest voice that Larson had ever heard asked. As ridiculous as his explanation was, he thought that her voice sounded half-alive and half-dead. It was rotting, yet full.

A woman's blond head became visible amidst the shadows. Her hawk-like nose, her dull grey eyes, and her thin, bright red lips seemed to mock him.

"Is he your sacrifice, little medium?"

Lilith nodded.

"Sacrifice?" Larson asked, his voice coming out more high-pitched than ever.

"That is what one needs if one wishes to take power from the Vault of Souls," the woman sneered. She stepped into the light, and Larson almost gagged. The top half of her body was strong and well-muscled with unmarked skin, and she was incredibly tall with shoulders broader than those of any man, but the lower half of her body…it was black and blue as though she had been bruised repeatedly, but she was still standing. The skin on her legs that wasn't mottled with bruises was rotting away from what was probably gangrene.

The woman raised a hand with claw-like nails that were painted red, beckoning him forward. To his horror, Larson obeyed her summons.

"So, now you witness the abomination that is Hel, daughter of Loki," the woman hissed. "Half-living, half-dead, and made to rule over the dead even as her own living father is imprisoned there for his crime: wild magic. His wild spell almost destroyed the world, and I helped him with it, so this is my punishment. And now you're here: a sacrifice for someone else's power. You're a slave, aren't you? Poor thing. You've done little wrong, but what can you do? What can I do? I take what is sacrificed to me to make me live maybe a little more than I die, and my father needs it maybe be a little more free, and they need it for power beyond their wildest dreams. And look at her. Poor little medium. A mere child, yet she's forced to walk the paths of dead in her medium's trance. Tsk. Tsk. Tsk. And they say that I did wrong. Now, surrender the blood, little medium."

Larson couldn't help but find Hel's entire speech hypocritical. This was the woman who would deny even his spirit rest. Lilith handed her both vials.

"That one's for Loki," Hel said, pointing at the second one as she took the first. "Give it to him."

Lilith shook her head and kept holding the vial out.

"Hel, she's not the one. She's living, but she's not alive," a man's voice said. This one was more alive and fuller of mischief and malice than any voice that Larson had ever heard.

"She's alive," Hel replied.

"She's in a trance, and she's not one of our cursers," the man continued. "Until the Greyfolk rise out of their ashes and come to free me—which they will never do—I'm stuck here, and as long as I'm stuck here, so are you. Silly little dance, isn't it?"

"Do you know what a silly little dance is?" Larson shouted. He felt rebellious for the first time in his history, and now he had nothing to lose or to gain. He just needed to say something even if it availed him naught for it couldn't hurt him. "I've been a slave all of my life. I've served, and I've earned everything that I ever wanted and never got. I've suffered, and I've sweated for nothing. Now in death I'm a sacrifice? What kind of dance is that? A silly one, I tell you!"

"I thought that I was going to conquer the world, boy, and now I'm prisoner in death," Loki said. "Look for comfort. You're dead. You belong here. I don't. And then look at my daughter. Poor, big Hel. Her mother was a giantess, one of the last of that race. That's why she's so big. She's too big. And now she's half in the grave, but she won't go all the way in. We don't belong here, but we are. You deserve peace in death, but your master has decided otherwise. Now come to me, spirit, and bring me the blood."

"I hate you," Larson spat. "I hate everyone."

"Good for you," Loki said. "Now, Hel, send him to this infernal, weirdly spelled pit. You can get in, but you can't get out. Ironic, isn't it?"

Hel closed those dull gray eyes and pursed her thin lips. Larson could read some pity on her face. His cynicism told him that it was probably because he wouldn't benefit her.

"Go to him," Hel ordered, her voice steady. Larson tried so desperately hard to resist, but he felt some invisible force prying his feet off of the ground and shoving him in the back, moving him towards Lilith from whom he took the vial and then to Loki's pit.

He looked down some apprehension. He expected Loki to be as twisted as his daughter, but he wasn't. He was tall and slim with fiery red hair and eyes of the same color.

Larson passed his own blood and Hathcyn's to Loki, who took it.

"Cheers," the man said to Hel, raising his vial.

Hel raised hers to her lips, and they drank. As soon as they were finished, Larson felt himself being sucked down into the pit as is spiritual form was broken apart. His last thought was that it was oddly painless. It was as though he could no longer feel. Something about that was relieving.

"Power of death, and power of blood," Lilith said, "give power to Hathcyn the half-blood. Make him strong, and give him what wildness you know."

"And Lady Death and Lord Trickster answer," Hel spoke. "Now, go back to life, little medium."

Lilith nodded and turned, her trance leading back to life. Just then, she felt some force pulling her back there. She opened her eyes and saw Morgana dripping a potion into her mouth. She turned her head and saw Hathcyn on his hands and knees, his eyes wide.

"I-I'm hearing things," he whispered.

"The voices from the Vault," Galbatorix explained. "Larson's your connection."

"Larson?" Lilith echoed. Morgana suddenly seemed to grow apprehensive, but Galbatorix merely nodded his head towards the air over her shoulder. Lilith turned and screamed. A man with a dagger in his heart was lying less than a foot away from her. His eyes were wide, and his mouth was open. He'd died unexpectedly and quickly.

"I-I killed him," she muttered, her eyes wide.

"No, you didn't," Morgana said quickly. She didn't know how to handle something like this. She tried putting her hand on the child's shoulder, and Lilith threw her arms around her neck.

"Yes, I did," Lilith howled. "I didn't know what I was doing, and I killed him."

"Lilith, calm down," Morgana shouted. "You're going to throw up."

That was exactly what Lilith did a moment later. Morgana pulled away in revulsion.

"Um, if it makes you feel any better, I killed him," Hathcyn said weakly.

Lilith looked at him, puzzled. "Why?" she asked.

"I…he said that I needed to," the green rider said, pointing at Galbatorix.

The king looked unaffected by Lilith's confused stare. "I did. Honestly, Morgana, I don't know why your child is so weak."

"Maybe we should have gotten rid of the body?" Hathcyn suggested.

"Yes, that's we did last time," Morgana hissed.

"You're just angry because you're covered in vomit," Galbatorix said nonchalantly.

Morgana picked up Lilith, who had stopped crying and now simply looked lost.

"I'll take you back to Deandra," she mumbled.

_So, there's one more man that you've killed for power,_ Eofor told Hathcyn moodily.

_Eofor?_ Hathcyn asked.

_Yes,_ the green dragon replied.

_Thank the gods that I can finally hear you again. You know, I never thought that I'd be glad to hear you yelling at me,_ Hathcyn said.

_And I never thought that I'd be so glad to be ignored by you. _

"You will report to the practice field and learn to control the spirits," Galbatorix cut through their connection.

Okay, well, I got bitten by a plot bunny, so…yeah. What I said would happen in this chapter at the end of the last chapter will happen next chapter. By the way, Hel and Loki are Norse gods, so I don't technically own them, though who knows who really does? Also, for the death question, I have decided that I cannot possibly kill of Eragon as he is the hero, and I have already promised not to kill off Murtagh or Arya. I have an idea for a situation where I could kill off Nasuada, and I have this nagging feeling that I hav eto kill off Eofor or Hathcyn. I could also come up with a scenario for Lilith, but it'll take convincing for me to do it. Shruikan's an obvious one as well. I just think that someone other than him needs to go. Also, which dragon should be with Saphira? Please leave reasons for your choice, and for the love of God, vote. Anyway, here are the review responses.

CaramelBoost: Um, I never got the full review. I'm glad that update made you happy though.

Eragonharrypotterfan: I'm glad that I did that well. As for the deaths, see above.

Mayarider: Thanks

Jimmy-barnes-13: Thanks. I'm glad that you like the Eragon/Nasuada stuff.

Stripysockz: Yes, I was rather proud of that line. Glad about the grammar too. So, see what you think about the death question after the AN. I'm glad that you liked the couples stuff. I agree with you about the books. They're generally good, but they can get pretty cliché. And as for Eofor, he has his suspicions.

Little number one: I see what you mean about Nasuada. I'm not sure if I want to kill her, but I don't really want to kill anyone, and I have to. There will probably be something of a love triangle, or at least jealousy. As for the fight between Murtagh and Hathcyn, that's next chapter.

FlyingFaeriesDance: Thanks. Sorry about the long update. I've been busy.

Queenmab: Thanks. As I have said, I am kicking myself for that mistake.

Cassie Winchester: Yes, it will. You'll see where she goes with it though. Or what everyone assumes.

GreenTeandHoney: I'm flattered. Thanks. And that conversation will take place next chapter.

Fredsonetrueluv: Yeah, that's what I intended with that. Plus, I don't see Murtagh as the guy who'd just back off. And you'll have to wait and see what happens to Eragon and Nasuada. Because of their situation, I promise that they will get first scene next chapter.

Maze2010: Finals are coming up in a few weeks for me too. I'm glad that you liked the M/A scene. It wasn't originally supposed to be much, but I went back and made it more. I'm glad that you liked Eragon's pain and angst. As I said above, I can't kill him. It just wouldn't work.

Treeonfire13: That'll be a fun chapter. Trust me. When it comes. Which it will. Eventually.


	25. Interruptions

Interruptions

_Interruptions__ can be viewed as sources of irritation or opportunities for service, as moments lost or experience gained, as time wasted or horizons widened. They can annoy us or enrich us, get under our skin or give us a shot in the arm. Monopolize our minutes or spice our schedules, depending on our attitude toward them.__"_

_-William Arthur Ward_

Disclaimer: Well, I obviously don't own Eragon because Paolini would probably never even consider these pairings.

Elva sat down in her room and sought Lilith's mind. To her surprise, she couldn't find it.

_Lilith!_ she called. _Lilith! _The girl couldn't be gone. She just couldn't be.

_Elva? _Lilith asked. _I was sleeping. _

_I'm sorry,_ Elva said. _You scared me. I couldn't find your mind. I thought that maybe Galbatorix had found out what you're doing and hurt you. _

_Oh no, _Lilith said. _He's fine…Elva, have you ever killed a man? _

_I've uncovered assassins after Lady Nasuada, and they've died because of it, _Elva admitted.

_I think that I killed a man today,_ Lilith said. _My mother told me that I didn't, that it was the green rider who killed him, but whenever I drink that one potion, I don't remember anything. I don't know if I killed him or not, and I think that I did. _

_What potion? _Elva asked.

_I don't know what it is, _Lilith said. _I just know that I use it whenever the riders need new powers from the dead, I think. My mother told me that they need me because of these powers I have with the dead. You know. Those powers that help me talk to you. Anyway, the time that I helped the red rider, somebody died too, but they moved the body away before I woke up, and now I'm afraid that I've killed two men. _

_Lilith, I don't think that you did, _Elva said. She then paused to think up a good reason for why she thought that. _It sounds like the green rider would need to kill him if he needs power from the dead. _

_You really think so? _Lilith asked.

Elva said that it made sense to her, and it really did. _Besides,_ she said, _if you can't remember anything, how can you have really killed anyone? Wouldn't it be the person who gave you the potion's fault? _

_I guess so,_ Lilith said.

_I know so,_ Elva told her. _I have to go now. Lilith, thanks for telling me that. _

_Thanks for comforting me,_ Lilith said.

_Bye. _

_Bye._

_--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- _

Eragon stirred the moment he felt the sunlight creep over his back and breathed in. Something smelled good, rather like cinnamon in fact. He reluctantly opened his for his sleep had become quite pleasant after the visions of lies had stopped and he wasn't quite ready to rejoin the rest of reality yet.

A strange sight met his eyes as he opened them. Nasuada was lying extremely close to him, her breath tickling the hollow in his neck. A moment later he realized that his had his arms wrapped around her waist. Why was that? They hadn't done anything. Had they? No, they were still clothed, he though as he looked down.

Then it hit him. This had been the woman who'd comforted him during his unconscious state. She and Saphira. His hand absentmindedly ran through her dark hair before he stopped, realizing what he was doing. This wasn't right. He shouldn't have made her sleep next to him. It would look wrong if anyone walked in right now even if she had only been comforting and even if it simply felt good to have her lying so close to him, his fingers tangling in her hair…He stopped and shook his head. He'd best wake her up before anything did happen. He shook his head again. Of course it wouldn't. Well, he still might as well wake her up.

"Nasuada," he whispered into her ear.

The Varden's leader opened her eyes and looked up into Eragon's. She realized where she was lying and looked down. She was suddenly very aware of his hands around her waist, of the feel of his chest beneath her hands, of his breath in her hair…She stopped and looked up again.

"Eragon, what…" she began. Just then, the door opened, and both the rider and Nasuada looked up into the shocked face of Roran Stronghammer. Eragon hadn't really spoken to his cousin since they'd gotten back from Dras Leona, and they'd never quite made up from their fight.

"So, you two are…together?" Rorana asked. "Interesting. Um, maybe you'd better be a little more discreet about it. I mean, I know that you really shouldn't worry about what other people say—Katrina and I didn't—but considering who you two are, I'd think that maybe you'd better care about what people say. And if she got pregnant with your child, it might not go over too well…"

"Roran, nothing happened!" Eragon shouted. Nasuada was staring at Roran in a state of shock, her cheeks coloring slightly.

Roran sighed. "Eragon, I'm not going to tell anyone. Besides, this makes it pretty obvious."

"Roran," Nasuada began, "I simply fell asleep here while I was waiting for him to wake up. Nothing happened between us. That would be rather inappropriate considering the present circumstances and that we simply view each other as friends."

Roran sighed and mumbled something that sounded like, "Denial," before he said, "Well, whatever it was, I was coming down here to check on Eragon when that witch Angela came to tell me that Orrin was meeting with a delegation from Ellesméra and that he required Nasuada's presence and Eragon's if he was feeling up to it. So, are you?"

"I am," Eragon said, gingerly climbing out of the bed.

Nasuada climbed out after him, trying desperately to straighten out the wrinkles in her dress. At last, she gave up and muttered an incantation under her breath to make her dress look less slept-in.

Eragon glanced at her sideways and then did the same thing to his clothes. He grimaced when he noticed the tear in his shirt and the blood stains on it. He mumbled something to get rid of the blood and the tear.

"Come on," Roran said as soon as Eragon finished. He and Nasuada followed Roran through Boromeo Castle until they reached the door of Nasuada's study.

"You're not coming?" Nasuada asked him when Roran made no move to follow them through the door.

"I'm not important enough for that," was Roran's reply. "Besides, I don't feel like being ripped into by them for not turning back despite the fact that Arya told not us to."

When Eragon and Nasuada had entered the room, they saw Orrin, Orik, Jörmundur, Trianna, Vanir, Lifaen, and a silver-haired elfin female whom Eragon had never seen before.

"Ah, so good to see that you've recovered," Orrin said pleasantly. "These are Lifaen Rílvenar, Vanir Haldthin, and Sandrelin Danathr."  
Eragon bowed, and Nasuada remained upright to remind the king of her status.

"We are here to discuss that disastrous loss that has occurred," Vanir said. "Indeed we were shocked that you allowed such an even to occur, Argetlam."

"How dare you accuse him of cowardice?" Orik asked. "It's been said again and again that the elf asked to be left behind to do battle with her Ra'zac. How is it our fault if the red rider decided to appear out of nowhere and take back the egg that he stole from her?"

"Peace, master dwarf," Lifaen said as he rose from his seat. "We do not come here to insult the rider. Vanir-vodhr spoke badly.

"However," Sandrelin interrupted, "we do wish to know why nothing has been done about this."

"Because there has not been the time," Nasuada said.

"There has not been time to rescue the elfin ambassador, dear to the queen herself?" Vanir asked.

"It would be nearly impossible to simply walk into Urû'baen. Eragon is the only one who could even hope to that, and he'd have to have help. Besides, we've needed him for weeks. There have been attacks by the king's newest rider, and battles involving the red rider. We were waiting for you to come to us so that you could offer your help and for the other situations to clear up," Nasuada explained.

"And what if Galbatorix has succeeded in breaching her mind?" Vanir asked.

Nasuada took a deep breath before saying, "He has. Eragon and I witnessed that just a few days ago."

Orik swore.

"And the elves could soon be under attack?" Sandrelin asked. "How could you not tell us this?"

"You were going to come here in a few days," Nasuada replied. "And that brings me to my next point. We need to go rescue Arya and soon."

"It should have been sooner," Vanir mumbled.

"Lady Nasauda, who should go on this mission?" Jörmundur asked. "There are some that cannot be spared."

"Eragon and I shall go," Nasuada said.

"Why you?" Lifaen asked, puzzled.

"I have recently started to learn magic," Nasuada replied.

"She has a great gift," Eragon put in. "She could be useful."

"That I cannot allow," Jörmundur protested. "If you are killed…"

"Then Eragon shall be my successor," Nasuada finished.

"And what if Eragon is killed?" Lifaen ventured.

"Then we will have to leave Alagaësia," Nasuada said with a sigh.

"What I am thinking is that you all should go back to Ellesméra and try to defend your city against the attack that must surely be coming," a new voice said.

Everyone turned to see Elva standing in the door.

"Who is this child?" Vanir asked. "She reeks of strange magic."

"Lilith told me that the green rider just obtained his powers," Elva said simply, ignoring Vanir and addressing Nasuada. "She also told me something else that I am supposed to just tell Eragon."

"Who is Lilith?" Vanir asked.

"She is a child living in Urû'baen," Elva said, "and I am Lady Nasuada's body guard."

"What curse has been placed on you?" Sandrelin asked.

Eragon drew in his breath. If Elva told her the truth, he might lose any respect that the elves had granted him.

"A blessing gone wrong is all," Elva replied, meeting Eragon's eyes.

Eragon bowed his head in thanks to her.

"Can none heal you?" Lifaen asked.

"I have chosen to keep my curse," Elva said. "It is useful to others. And it will not let me let go of it when doing so could harm so many."

"And how have you contacted this child in Urû'baen?" Sandrelin asked.

"I have other powers. I can communicate with the dead upon occasion, and I can talk to others who have those powers," Elva replied.

"A medium," Lifaen said, puzzled.

"She is how the green rider got his new powers, and she is how Galbatorix continues to keep his," Elva explained. Eragon thought that her voice sounded almost sad for Lilith. She bit down on her lip. "The power comes from wherever the dead are, I think."  
Everyone there looked puzzled. Everyone except for Orik that was.

"That is the Vault of Souls," Orik said. "Gûntera created it, and before the elves even came to Alagaësia, he made Hel keeper of the Vault."

"Hel?" Lifaen echoed. "You mean the daughter of Loki? The one whom the Grey Folk shut away from the world after they made the Ancient Language and saved the world from wild magic?"

"She is half alive and half dead," Orik continued, "and she is the daughter of Loki, the one who almost destroyed the trying to conquer it with a spell."

Eragon's eyes widened. This is what Oromis had talked about when he had told Eragon that spells could be performed nonverbally.

"Yes, that much is true," Sandrelin put in, "but this Vault is never mentioned in the Grey Folk's writings."

"That is what Lilith said," Elva stated. "Perhaps she was mistaken. I do not know."

"It would make sense if Galbatorix's growing powers came from something more than just his own body and the Ancient Language," Lifaen mused. "But from the dead? Or perhaps from something else?"

"Like wild magic," Sandrelin added.

Vanir shook his head.

"You had to get them started, didn't you?" he asked Orik and Elva in an undertone.

"Oromis-elda already knows the source of Galbatorix's power," the dark-haired elf told the other two loudly. "We need to deal with the matter at hand."

"He's right," Nasauda said. "So, what shall we do?"

"I think that the girl has a point," Orik said.

"As do I," Orrin said.

"Arya needs rescuing," Eragon said. "We can get her back, and then we can go back to Ellesméra. If we need to, we can kill one or both of the riders when we go there."

"But it would be easier to kill them in a battle," Jörmundur remarked. "There'd be more people and more magicians. Even if he has two riders and even if he knows where Ellesméra and every other place in Du Weldenvarden is, how can he stand up to the might of the elves and Eragon? He killed a shade, and he's become even stronger since then."

"But hasn't he been unable to escape even the green rider's duplicity in the previous battles with the previous battles?" Vanir argued.

"I think that I'll be prepared for his tricks this time," Eragon said coldly.

"He has a million of them," Trianna mumbled, speaking for the first time.

"What did he do to you?" Eragon asked.

"It doesn't matter, Argetlam. I doubt that he'll try it on you," Trianna replied with a hint of coldness in her voice.

"How powerful is his magic from what you've witnessed?" Lifaen asked, interrupting the discussion.

"He has to rely on trickery to get anywhere with me," Eragon said.

"He killed one of my apprentices," Trianna said.

"And he will have gotten more powerful with the help from the dead," Elva added.

"So, do we go to Ellesméra to defend it or go to Urû'baen to regain Arya first?" Nasuada asked.

"I think that defending Ellesméra and hopefully killing at least one of the new riders will be better than risking our lives in Urû'baen. We cannot go against three riders," Vanir said at last.

"We are putting far too much hope into this idea that we could actually kill them in a battle," Sandrelin protested. "I think that we could assassinate them when we sneak into Urû'baen."

"That is not likely, Sandrelin Svit-kona," Lifaen said.

"And in a battle?" Sandrelin asked. "Would it not be better to have Arya Dröttningu on our side and possibly one less rider?"

"You forget that if both his riders are dead, the king will come himself," Vanir put in. "Where will we be then?"

"He wouldn't leave his capital," Sandrelin stated.

"He would," Lifaen said. "He knows where we are, and if he has riders, it is likely that he will send them, but if he has no riders, he will come himself."

"And suppose he comes with them?" Sandrelin asked.

"You just said that he wouldn't leave his domain," Vanir replied.

"I must say that I agree with Vanir and Lifaen," Orrin put in. "Elva will tell you when the king is likely to attack Ellesméra, and then you will go there to defend it. It makes more sense."

"The queen will be most displeased," Sandrelin mumbled.

"And are we to leave Arya to him until then?" Eragon demanded. "That is wrong."

"Arya Dröttningu knows the risk of this task," Lifaen said.

"What if he kills her?" Eragon asked.

"He won't," Elva said. "He wants her to suffer slavery until the fall of the Varden, the elves, and the dwarves."

"Find out when Galbatorix will attack Ellesméra," Sandrelin told her as she left the room.

"I will ask Lilith if she knows," Elva said.

"Considering the fact that Sandrelin is gone, I would say that this is over?" Vanir ventured.

"It is," Nasuada agreed. "Elva, find out more if you can."

"Please forgive her," Lifaen whispered to Nasuada. "She is young, and she thinks of Arya as a sister."

When they had left the council room, Eragon was surprised to find that Roran was still outside of the door.

"So, Arya is still in danger?" his cousin asked him.

"She's just a tool to these peole," Eragon complained. "At least Sandrelin has some sympathy."

"I think that they were more concerned about the safety of the rescue. If you all die trying to rescue her, it won't do her any good," Roran said.

_He's right, _Saphira told him.

"Maybe you should be the rider," Eragon told him. "You get everything better than I do."

_Eragon,_ Saphira sighed, _I chose you when I could have chosen Roran. He was in the same house with me, wasn't he? He touched my egg just as you did. But you kept me, and you cared for me, and you have been my rider._

Apparently, Saphira had made sure that Roran could hear as well, for he said, "I wasn't cut out to be a rider anyway. I don't think that I have the stomach to do all that you do."  
"But look what you did with the village of Carvahall," Eragon protested.

"I led a village after me, but I couldn't lead an army. Besides, you were always better with animals and such. Not that Saphira's an animal, but you know what I mean. You were always better at bonding with one person," Roran told him.

"I'm sorry that I yelled at you after Helgrind. It wasn't your fault," Eragon told him.

"And I'm sorry that I teased you about Nasuada," Roran said. "I know that you love Arya more. It's just…Well, hasn't Arya rejected you? Hasn't she told you that she doesn't want you?"

"I love her," Eragon said. "I can't just stop. That's not right. And maybe you want me to be with Nasuada, but…"

"But what?" Roran asked.  
"She's not Arya," Eragon said.

"Obviously," his cousins said. "Maybe she's just more suited for you."

_Eragon, I share you thoughts, _Saphira told him. _Remember how you've been concerned for her, defended her, and accepted her comfort? And you liked holding her. _

Eragon sighed. "You two are hopeless."

_No, you are,_ Saphira told him.  
Roran chuckled at him.

"Well, what about you and Katrina?" Eragon asked.

Roran closed his eyes. "I love her, Eragon, and she loves me. She's close to my age, and I'm happy with her. We're suited for each other. From what you've said, Arya's too old for you and too different."

"Stop it," Eragon told them. "Stop insulting her."  
"I'm not insulting her," Roran laughed. "I'm telling you what I think is best for you and that I think that Arya's too old and too cold for you." Before he knew what was happening, he was on the ground, and Eragon was standing over him, glaring.

"Oh, little cousin, you're gonna pay for that one," Roran whispered. He pulled Eragon down, and they wrestled back and forth on the floor.

"What are you doing?" Nasuada demanded. "You can not be wrestling in the middle of the halls. What if the elves saw that?"

"I'm sorry, Lady Nasuada," both men mumbled as they broke apart.

She sighed and said, "It's fine. Just please don't do it in public. We need to at least pretend that we have some dignity." Her lips quirked slightly, and Eragon snorted.

"So, have you two made up?" she asked.

"We have," Roran said. "At least I think so."  
"We have," Eragon said grudgingly when Nasuada looked at him.

"So, what was the argument about?" she asked him.

"It's not important anymore," Eragon said quickly.

"If you say so," Nasuada said with a shrug.

As she walked off, Eragon noticed a slight sway in her hips, and then cursed himself. She was his liege lord. He had no reason to be thinking of her that way.

_Eragon, you've thought of Arya that way, and she's an elfin princess and ambassador, _Saphira groaned.

Roran snorted at something.

"What?" Eragon asked.

"You were checking her out," he whispered.

Eragon growled at him and walked back to his room.

"What's wrong, Eragon?" Nasuada asked.  
Eragon turned and saw Roran working very hard not to laugh. Nasuada was standing near him.

"Just something Roran said," Eragon muttered. "It's fine."

"You really should stop teasing him," was the last thing that Eragon heard Nasuada say before he was out of earshot.

So, that's the end of chapter 25. I hope that you all liked it. Next chapter is all in Urû'baen, I think. I hope that you liked the Eragon/ Nasuada interaction in this chapter. Okay, so, who dies? Hathcyn and/or Eofor or Nasuada? By the way, the person who dies, dies at the end. Just so you all know. And sorry about how long it took me to update. I've been busy with exams and such, but it's summer for me now. Well, here are the review responses.

TheSummoningDark: Oh, it's fine. I just finished mine Wednesday. I'm glad that you liked those scenes. I suddenly got into Norse Mythology again, probably because we were reading Greek Mythology in English. I dunno. But I've always thought that Hel and Loki were the most interesting, so they're in there. I also enjoyed having Eofor mess with Morgana.

Carottorange: Hi, Sophie. I'm glad that you like the E/N. It's fun to write.

Cassie Winchester: I see what you're saying. It's a good point.

Hanka13: I don't know whom I'm going to kill off, but I know that someone has to die.

Stripysockz: Yeah, that was fun to write. I love making Hathcyn argue with people. Sorry about the gods-confusion thing. I'm glad that you eventually understood it. The Arya/Eofor thing will probably be mentioned again in the next chapter. I will not kill off Lilith, I swear. And, yes, Galby's an idiot. The thing about Hathcyn and Trianna dying is interesting. It might happen at the end. I'm gonna do more with that couple when…well, never mind. I can't tell you that, but I will do more with that couple. I see what you're saying about Saphira and Thorn. Eofor is definitely a little rebel.

Queenmab: I'm glad that you liked it. I hope that I see you during the summer. And I lost the game.

Mayarider: I'm glad that you like it. Well, there wasn't a Murtagh/Hathcyn fight, but there was an Eragon/Roran one. Sorry.

Maze2010: I'm glad that you liked my ritual. I thought that it needed to be evil, or else the elves would all be doing it.

Fredsonetrueluv: Um, yeah. Okay. It was probably a good idea that you stopped.

Treeonfire13: He got his power from the Vault before Lilith first from one of the Foresworn and then from Medea. That was explained in chapter 21, I think?

CaramelBoost: Yeah, it does suck when they do that. I won't kill off Lilith, I swear. I see what you're saying about the death thing, but whoever dies won't die until the end. I'm glad that you liked the delusional thing. Brecca may or may not go, but he's not a main character, and nobody really likes him, not they're really supposed to. Morgana and Deandra might actually talk next chapter. It'll be about the Lilith thing, I think.


	26. Bad Influence

Bad Influence

_If it were in my power, I would be wiser; but a newly felt power carries me off in spite of myself; love leads me one way, my understanding another._

_-Ovid in Metamorphoses_

Disclaimer: Don't own. Don't sue. Thank you. I need a new disclaimer. Don't you all think so?

Hathcyn was lying on ground in the practice courts, looking up at the sky. The spirits kept swirling around in his head, shouting at him to release them. He couldn't register each request, each word; it was all too convoluted. Right now, he was just barely shoving them below the surface.

"Focus on that, and just that," Galbatorix ordered. "The spirits don't control you; you control them. Keep your focus on one thing, and you won't be focusing on their senseless ramblings about how they want to get out. YOU DON'T LET THEM OUT!"

When Galbatorix shouted, Hathcyn blinked. The effect was instantaneous. His eyes rolled back in his head; his breathes became pants; and his head felt as though the people now sharing it with him were ramming a tree trunk against it.

_Hush, little baby, don't say a word._

_Momma, why did Horsey throw me?_

_Momma's gonna buy you a mockingbird. _

_Let me go! _

_Where am I?_

_Why do I suffer? I've done nothing wrong. _

_Fool! Life's cruel. Why should death be any different?_

_Do you know who I am?_

"No, I don't!" Hathcyn shouted. A bit of the pain receded as all of the spirits stopped to listen.

_Well, I'm…_

"I don't care!" he seethed, and with those words, the voices and the pain returned in full force.

_Oh, nobody cares about me. _

_Don't care? Why you little…_

_And if that mockingbird don't sing…_

_Shut that damn baby up!_

_Leave us alone! _Eofor's voice sounded above all the voices in Hathcyn's head. Something was sweeping through his brain, pushing the spirits down and silencing them.

"That's another way to do it," Galbatorix told Eofor. "Well done, dragon. It would seem as though you aren't a complete fool after all. You, my young rider, must learn to focus on something that isn't a spirit or on all of them at once. You can't just pick a fight with one while the others keep screaming. It won't work."

"I noticed," Hathcyn muttered.

"Now that your dragon's shut them up, they probably won't bother you for a while. But if you lose control or give them a break, they'll come up again. They'll try to get out again. And then you'll have to do it all over again. Remember this lesson, and remember you dragon's rare moment of wisdom."

_Don't worry, Eofor. You're plenty for the both of us, _Hathcyn told his dragon when resentment and hurt poured into the green rider's mind.

"Considering all the trouble that he's gotten you into, I wouldn't agree with that," Galbatorix remarked.

_Can't you keep him out? _Eofor asked.

"No, and neither can you," Galbatorix replied.

_Just calm down, Eofor, _Hathcyn told him. _Remember what happened last time. _

"So you do have a brain," Murtagh remarked. "That's nice to know. At least you don't blunder through everything."

"Where did you come from?" Hathcyn asked, turning towards the direction of Murtagh's voice.

"The door," the red rider replied.

"Oh, so you use doors like the rest of us mortals? That's nice to know," Hathcyn retorted.

"Are you actually accusing me of being arrogant?" Murtagh asked.

"You?" Hathcyn said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Now why would I do that?"

"Speak of demons," Murtagh muttered.

"So now you're acting crazy for the whole world to see?" Hathcyn said.

"Well, that's better than the slut, but I honestly preferred…what was it…she who inflicts misery by breathing? That was an amusing one."

Hathcyn's eyes narrowed, but he didn't turn in the direction of Morgana's voice. She was the last person that he wanted to see right now.

"What are you doing here, Morgana? This is really a bad time. The last members of a supposedly illustrious order are bickering like five year olds," Galbatorix interrupted.

"Surda knows that the elf' gave up Ellesméra's location," she replied. "And I think that Lilith behaves better than they do."

"And you know this how?" Hathcyn asked, finally turning around to face her. She looked considerably pleased with herself.

"Know what how?" Morgana asked, meeting his eyes. She was smiling almost maniacally.

"I think he was asking how you know how you child behaves, considering that you never pay attention to her," Murtagh put in.

Morgana whipped around, and her hair almost smacked Hathcyn in the face. He didn't particularly care though. However, he would have given almost anything to have seen the look that she'd just given Murtagh.

"Actually, I was asking about the elf's location," he said.

"Thank you," Morgana said, smiling at him. She then curtsied, keeping her head up so that he could see the curve of her breasts, which were practically falling out of her gown.

_Don't! _Eofor shouted.

_I wasn't, _Hathcyn said. _I was just looking. I'm allowed to look, aren't? _

Eofor muttered something that sounded oddly like pervert.

_Where did you learn that? _Hathcyn asked.

_Thorn, _Eofor replied.

"Hey, rider, your dragon is teaching mine dirty words!" Hathcyn shouted at Murtagh.

"You mean you didn't teach him them yourself?" Murtagh asked.

For some odd reason, Morgana found the whole situation so incredibly funny that she burst out laughing.

"Tell me, child," Galbatorix began. "Did you come down here to laugh at my students, or did you come down here to tell me something?"

"I came down here to tell you something, and I was beginning to tell you that something when those two interrupted me," Morgana answered.

"Oh, yes, it was something about a spy here, wasn't it?" Galbatorix muttered. "Well, how do you know of him?"

"Do you remember that man that we caught a while back?" Morgana asked.   
"The one who revealed the size of the army and its location?" Galbatorix asked.

"Yes, that one," Morgana replied.

"I thought he died after you made him swallow glass, and he cut his throat open," Galbatorix remarked.  
"He did," Morgana said. "This one's his replacement. He worked in a bar that your soldiers like. One of your spies had been suspicious about him, so I went there last night and got this paper from him. It's a message from Orrin."

Galbatorix perused the piece of paper and said, "This is disconcerting. So, how does Orrin know all of this, since the spy clearly didn't know it?"

"I looked into his mind," Morgana replied. "He didn't know. I found something that wasn't on the paper though. There's another source within the palace. The spy doesn't know who it is, and I don't know how the source gets to Orrin."

"Does he know?" Galbatorix asked.

"He does not," Morgana replied.

"This is problematic. I want you to go through every single servant in the palace and find out who is betraying us," Galbatorix said.

"Do you really think it's a servant though?" Morgana asked. "How would a servant know this much? Wouldn't it be someone closer to you?" Her eyes flicked towards Murtagh before they came to rest on her father once again.

"Why would I do that?" Murtagh asked.

"Past friendship with the blue rider, lust for the elf, general hatred for everything that involves Galbatorix. Need I go on?" Morgana retorted.

"But how would I give the Varden that information?" Murtagh asked. "They don't trust me. They wouldn't take anything that I said."  
"You could be sending a messenger to them," Morgana suggested.

"And that messenger would most definitely be a servant, so do as I say, and examine them," Galbatorix cut in.

"I will do so," Morgana replied, curtsying again.

"Keep your head down when you do that," Galbatorix snarled. "There's not need to do that for me."

"It's just a habit," Morgana protested.

"A bad one. Now go," Galbatorix ordered.

Morgana had just turned to leave when Galbatorix suddenly said, "Wait a minute. Fetch me the elf."

"Why do you want the elf?" Murtagh asked all too casually.

"You'll see," Galbatorix told Murtagh reminding the latter of a child with a new toy.

_Murtagh, stop trying to play it cool, and stop asking questions. Questions get you in trouble, and trouble is bad. Therefore, questions are also bad, especially when you're asking them to him, _Thorn chided condescendingly.

_And talking to me in his presence is also bad because you never know when he might be dropping in on our conversation, _Murtagh retorted.

_He only enjoys doing that to Hathcyn and Eofor, _Thorn said.

"Actually, I enjoy doing that to you two as well," Galbatorix cut in. He didn't seem angry though. In fact, he looked positively giddy.

For once, everyone on the training field was in agreement. They were all of the opinion that Arya was in for something, and that something was not going to be good.

Meanwhile, the elf in question was busy scrubbing Hathcyn's floor. He'd come back to his room last night, shaking from something. When she'd asked him what was wrong, he'd mumbled something about stupid spirits, lain down, and drunk a potion that knocked him out immediately.

Arya had frozen for just a moment when she'd heard the words about spirits. She'd of legends when she'd been among the dwarves about humans deriving power from the dead, but she'd never given them much credence. She'd grown up believing that the soul was attached to the body and died with it. Perhaps she'd misheard Hathcyn. But when did an elf ever mishear anything?

Her musings had then been rudely cut off by Hathcyn vomiting in his sleep over the side of the bed. He'd done that several times throughout the night and not woken at all. And so Arya was kneeling on the floor, cleaning up a mess made by her own morning sickness and Hathcyn's inability to get to the chamber pot to vomit in time. She groaned when she thought of that particular thing. The smell was foul, as one would expect it to be, and she nearly vomited when emptying into the waste pit, which was kept about a half a mile away from the palace. Not that she was ever allowed to go that far alone. A guard and a well-trained magician had had to accompany the last few mornings as she performed that particular task. Maybe she could have defeated the guard, but without her magic, she had no chance against the magician. The only two good things that could be said about the past few days were that she hadn't seen Murtagh or Morgana. She didn't need unwanted lust or insults.

Unfortunately, the latter of the two good things was about to change.

Arya's head shot up when she heard a key turn in the lock, and she was on her feet by the time Morgana had entered the room.

The younger woman glanced at the floor and then at Arya's impassive face.

"Oh my, what happened here?" she asked.

Arya didn't answer.

"Was that you or him?" Morgana pressed.

"Him," Arya replied.

"Hm," Morgana continued. "Lucky for you, I suppose. It would be so unfortunate if Murtagh left you with an unwanted burden, shall we say?"

Arya's expression didn't change, but her mind was reeling. Why had Morgana said that? Did Galbatorix already know her secret? Had Deandra betrayed her, or had he just found out on his own?

"Well, wouldn't it?" Morgana pressed.

"It would," Arya agreed. "I have been very fortunate."

Morgana suddenly started laughing.

"Fortunate?" she chortled. "I've known beggars more fortunate than you."

"You mean you've passed them by?" Arya shot back.

"Thrysta," Morgana whispered.

Arya gasped as an invisible force hit her in the chest. She stumbled backwards and had to grab hold of the bed to stop herself from falling over.

"You're defenseless, and I'm not," Morgana stated. "Do not test me. And if I passed them by, what of it? The king keeps me on a tight leash financially."

If she hadn't just had the wind knocked out of her, she would have laughed at that. Morgana's earrings alone could have likely paid the rent for an apartment for a month.

"Well, I have to look the part, don't I?" Morgana said. "But why am I bothering to justify myself to you? You're nothing." She said this last part breathlessly, her dark eyes widening. For what was neither the first nor the last time, Arya wondered exactly how sane Morgana was.

Then she did something that infuriated Morgana to no end. She simply smiled slowly at her, daring her to believe that she was the better of the two.

"You really think you're better than me, don't you?" Morgana asked.

Arya didn't answer.

"You're not," Morgana continued.

Arya raised an eyebrow at her.

"Oh, I'm rotten, and I know it," Morgana continued, "but at least I do."

"What have I done that can equal what you've done?" Arya asked coldly.

Morgana smiled suddenly.

"How have you killed?" the younger woman asked quietly.

Arya froze at the question. It was unexpected to say the least. How could this sadist be accusing her of violence.

"I asked you a question," Morgana said, slapping her across the face.

"I do not count," Arya replied. It was the truth. The number would be staggering, she knew. Each had been done because it had to be done, because they were enemies of the empire. It had never been personal, and she'd never enjoyed it.

"I've killed eighteen through torture, assassination, poison. All for the king," Morgana said. "I bet you've killed more than that."

"I didn't enjoy it like I know did," Arya retorted.

"You mean you get blood lust? You never feel a thrill at destroying your enemies? It never satisfies you?" Morgana asked.

"I do what I must," Arya replied.

"And Murtagh?" Morgana asked. "What I saw you do in your mind with him was something that I would do."

"Have you with him?" Arya asked before she could stop herself. She didn't even know why she'd asked the question. It shouldn't matter to her what did or had done.

Morgana laughed. "You actually care what he does. That's funny." She paused, considering Arya and then said, "Yes, but it was against the wall."

Arya only blinked, keeping her face void of expression. So that kind of thing happened with him all the time. It shouldn't surprise her. A handsome, young, rich dragon rider…but she cut her thoughts off there. Compared to the elfin men, Murtagh's looks were ordinary at best. But then they weren't.

Arya was disgusted with herself as she felt tears welling up in her eyes. She swallowed them down and bit her lip. She would not cry over something that was so obviously not worth crying for her. She hadn't sunk that low.

Morgana's grin widened. "And then there was that time in the river and various other places, but I can't remember all of them. There were the stables of course, and then once in his bed, but that was only once. Never on a table though."

"Is he Lilith's father?" Arya asked quietly. She had already asked one question, and the damage was already done.

Morgana drew in her breath sharply. "No. It wasn't until after she was born that I gave into him. Poor boy thought he was in love with me. Damn near killed him when I chose somebody else. Then he grew up, so I had him."

"And why do you hate each other now?" Arya asked.

"Because there were others beside him. It made him hate me, and now I hate him for that," Morgana replied.

"And how can all that you've done be worse than what I've done?" Arya asked.

"I didn't say worse; I said as bad," Morgana retorted. "You did what you did simply because you wanted to, because you were lonely, _because you were hungry._ That's why I do what I do."

"One mistake does not damn me!" Arya hissed. She didn't know who she hated the most now: Morgana, Murtagh, or herself. Until about three months ago, only one man had ever been inside of her, and that man had been Fäolin, her mate and her love. Then she'd let Murtagh inside of her, and why? She knew the answer of course. Morgana had given it to her. The bitch had been right.

_Stupid hormones, _she thought, attributing the feelings to the only respectable result there was.

"It wasn't a mistake though. Mistakes are accidents. That wasn't an accident. You knew exactly what you wanted, and you took it," Morgana continued.

"But I regret it now more than I ever did," Arya said. "I doubt you've ever regretted a thing that you've done or ever will, and when you look back, I doubt you'll ever be truly proud of anything that you did."

"I'll be proud that I found your people," Morgana whispered.

Arya shook her head, her lips curling into a smile. Whatever Morgana had said to her, whatever she had just gained was about to be lost, and to Arya at that moment, that was winning, and it lifted her spirits higher than they'd been since before her capture. "But why? You don't care about the Empire or the Varden. It's neither here nor there to you. It's just whichever one can give you want you want. The Varden won't, and besides, you're as afraid of Galbatorix as the rest of us."

"Does it matter?" Morgana asked.

"If you believe in nothing and care for nothing, why live?" Arya asked.

"I believe in myself, and I care for myself, and that is more than enough reason to live!" Morgana shouted, her face now inches from Arya's. "My cause if my life. The Empire and the Varden can go to hell for all I care as long I don't go with them." She paused as she registered the look of pure disgust on Arya's face.

"That expression doesn't suit you," Morgana continued. "Do I disgust you? Do you think I'm selfish? Well, maybe I am, but that's how you live here. Maybe it's different with you. Maybe you have the time to be good, to be heroic, to avenge all the wrongs done to them by the king. But that doesn't change the fact that you've fucked with the king's right hand man for your own pleasure and that you're hear as a slave and that I am still free. As long as that's true, I still win."

Morgana backed away, and Arya just stared at her with new resolve. She wouldn't let this selfish whore shame her. She knew all that she needed to know about Murtagh, and she knew that she'd be able to resist him now.

Morgana smirked when she saw Arya's triumphant expression, and she simply said, "I came here to tell you that Galbatorix wishes to see you in the practice courts. Come with me. You can finish cleaning up your mess later."

_She's definitely insane, _Arya thought as she followed Morgana out the doorway. The thought comforted her as she walked towards what was likely going to be an excruciating experience. She could take it, she decided. She'd already taken so much else. What was a little more pain? Besides, she had the magic to protect her baby, and as soon as Hathcyn had gone, she'd cast an illusion spell that doubled as a shield charm. The baby would be safe, and that would be all that mattered.

"Why are you late?" Galbatorix demanded when Morgana and Arya finally entered the courtyard.

"She had some cleaning up to do. Apparently something's with the food because she and the green rider couldn't keep it down," Morgana replied without missing a beat.

"Really?" Galbatorix asked, not bothering to check the veracity of the comment. Instead, he stared ahead, black eyes strangely blank. His eyebrows nearly disappeared behind his hairline, and his lips moved in silent conversation. Finally, he spoke three words aloud. "That's very interesting."

Then his eyes cleared, and he snapped, "Elf! Stand here. Let me see how you look."

Arya stood directly in front of them, standing back just far enough so that she could still look into his eyes without having to tilt her chin to do so.

"Proud as ever, I see," Galbatorix whispered, a hint of a laugh in his voice. Then he closed the distance between them in one long stride, and Arya swallowed when she realized for the first time just how tall the king was. Even at her height, she still only came up to Galbatorix's shoulder.

His left hand gripped her by the chin, and his right was wrapped around her neck. She let out a rattling breath as a terrible thought occurred to her: _He snap my neck right now if he wanted to. _

"So you see you're trapped," Galbatorix said nonchalantly. It wasn't a question. "Now, should I see what's in your mind, or all your secrets forfeit? Is it worth breaking you right away when I can watch you suffer? Hm. What a question. I think the answer is no, but who can be sure with an elf? But what is there that I need to know right away, for what can you do? I hold you in the palm of my hand. I can use you however I like, and none can stop me. Do you have any idea how powerful that feels? Then again, I suppose not. Your race has always thought itself above using true names and what they call dark magic to control people. Not that they were, but they thought it. Oh yes, they thought it. I know more about your race than you do, you know because I lived during its golden age. I saw them before I brought them to nothing, and do you know what I think of that?"

"You think that they deserved it, and they didn't. Everything you have comes from them." Arya's voice was low and controlled, but it shook along with the rest of her body. Her pride wouldn't stand for such insults. He would not bring her low because she would not let him. His will might be great, but hers was too.

Galbatorix's eyes widened suddenly, and before she could blink, she was lying on the pavement, gasping from the shock. When she did so, a small white object dropped from her mouth. Arya gazed at it dispassionately as she absentmindedly felt the gap in her mouth.

He'd knocked out one of her teeth. Yet somehow it didn't matter. She'd made him mad, and the thought filled her with a sense of morbid satisfaction.

"Murtagh, don't look so disgusted. I've done far worse." Galbatorix's honey-smooth voice cut through the silence.

Arya's eyes slowly moved from the ground to Murtagh's face, but at this point he'd looked away.

"What of you, Hathcyn? Does it disgust you?" Galbatorix asked.

"You could've done worse," Hathcyn said with a shrug.

"Aye, I could have done worse," Galbatorix whispered, his eyes moving back to her. "And I will do much worse."

He paused. "First, let's try an experiment. Stand up."

Arya went to stand and then gasped as her head hit what felt like solid rock. She looked up and saw only air.

"See if you can keep her down, Hathcyn," Galbatorix said. "We keep doing this until she stands up or she gives up." The king then took a few steps back until he was leaning against the wall.

Arya took a deep breath and thought, _This should be simple enough. He's not experienced. He won't know what he's doing. I can get through this. _She positioned herself into a crouch, ready to spring up as soon as Galbatorix removed his barrier and before Hathcyn could apply his. Then he'd have to force her (if indeed he could), and how could that displease his royal highness? After all, he wanted to make the half-elf stronger. Arya almost smiled. Almost. Deep down inside she knew that there was worse to come.

Galbatorix, who had been staring at her the entire time, did something so strange that Arya's concentration on the task before her was jarred. He started laughing. It might have been because the usurper seemed the least likely person in the whole world to be amused enough by anything to laugh or because he sounded so horribly like Morgana when he laughed, but whatever the reason, Arya did not spring up in time, and Hathcyn's barrier actually knocked her out of her crouch and onto her stomach.

She gasped as the wind was knocked out of her by the blow. Her hands very nearly went to her stomach, but she stopped them just in time.

_No hints,_ she told herself as she instead placed her hands on the ground beside her and attempted to push up. She did so gingerly, not wanting to slam her head, and found resistance perhaps a foot or so above her.

The barrier was neither as hard nor as sturdy as Galbatorix. This time, she allowed herself a small smile. Triumphs, however small and few, would be sweat. She lowered her body onto the ground, settled into a low crouch, and sprang up without warning. Hathcyn's barrier very nearly gave way before she heard a voice in her head shout, "No!"

She collapsed on the ground in confusion. That had not been Hathcyn's voice or any voice that she knew for that matter. Then she shook her head. It didn't matter now. She needed to break through this if only to get the whole experience over with.

She tried to break through the barrier again and again to no success. Every time she'd come close to bursting through, something would throw her back. Galbatorix seemed to grow weary of the whole thing as he had pulled out his dagger and begun to pick his fingernails with the thing. Her disgust with him at this point almost made her snarl, but she didn't have the strength for that. All she had the strength to do was lie on her stomach and pant from her exertions.

As she lay there, trying to recover some strength before she tried again, she felt energy creeping back into her veins, as if by magic. She turned her head to the side, brushed a lock of sweat-soaked hair from her eyes, and stared at Murtagh, who looked as disinterested by the whole thing as Galbatorix.

_Try number forty five, _she thought as she settled into a crouch and leapt yet again.

A cry broke from her throat as her head slammed against what felt like stone and then shattered it. She nearly fell to the ground again but managed to remain standing as she massaged her scalp.

"I thought you said she could take pain, Morgana," Galbatorix remarked.

"She used to be able to," Morgana said simply. "Now she can't even break through that herself. She needs _his_ help." She jerked her head in Murtagh's direction.

"Don't you have somewhere to be or something to do? Or someone for that matter? You've been hanging around here for the past half-hour."

Morgana blinked and took a deep breath.

"Of course," she said. Then she left without saying another word.

"Murtagh," Galbatorix snapped. "Do you think I'm _stupid_? I can tell when you help her. Gods, between the three of you, what will I do? How can I win this war when all I have is some lust-filled, traitorous bastard; reckless, stupid cocksure half-breed; and some damn slut who breeds trouble?" He turned his gaze to Arya. "Come here, elf."

Well, this chapter ended up being far longer than I expected, and I only got about half of it done that I wanted to. I am so sorry about how long it took me to update. I've been busy and suffering from writer's block and everything else. So, I decided to leave it with this cliff-hanger. I promise to update this in two weeks and include a Murtagh/Arya scene. Also, what does everyone think should happen to Arya next chapter? I am getting back into this story now, so I will probably be updating more. Anyway here are the review responses.

EmyuuRR: Thanks so much, and I'm so sorry that I haven't updated in such a long time.

xLzM: Thank you. I'm glad that you think I've done so well with such a weird idea.

Cristina101: Sorry that it took me so long to get this out.

Shurty Arya: Thanks. I like writing them.

Blue-eyed Chica: Thanks.

Stripysockz: What you're saying makes sense. I'm still considering the deaths, but I think I have a good idea of who will die. And I'm glad you liked that scene. A little comic relief is good, right? Oh, and yes this is bookverse. Eofor could survive without Hathcyn.

Fredsonetrueluv: Yeah, it would. I'm considering killing of either her or Hathcyn.

CaramelBoost: Thanks. I'm glad everyone found it humorous.

Maze2010: Thanks for the suggestions. Those are the ones I'm considering.

Iama: Thanks. I'm glad you thought so.

Treeonfire12: There was in this chapter, and there will much more in the next.


	27. Punishment

Punishment

_Nature meant me to be, on the whole, a good man, Miss Eyre; one of the better kind, and you see I am not so._

_-Mr. Rochester in Charlotte Brontë's Jane Eyre. _

"I said, 'Come here.' I gave you an order. Why are you not following it? Now, come here!" Those last two words were shouted by Galbatorix in the Ancient Lanuage, and the magic pulled Arya forward before her body could try to resist.

Galbatorix stared her down, and Arya kept her eyes to the ground so that he could not see her fear. She could not give him that pleasure.

"I want to see why he wants you," Galbatorix said softly. "I want you to take off your dress."

Arya froze and raised her eyes to meet his. He would not humiliate her like this. She would not let him. He could only hurt her as much as she allowed him to. She knew this. "No," Arya said, shaking her head.

"Hathcyn," Galbatorix said.

The green rider stopped fiddling with the hem of his tunic and looked up, saying, "What, master?"

"She's your slave," Galbatorix said.

"So, you want me to…" Hathcyn began.

"Yes," Galbatorix said as though he was an extremely patient teacher trying to explain a lesson to a particularly obtuse student.

Arya whirled around to face him, staring at him pleadingly. He was Glenwing's son. Surely he would take pity on her.

Hathcyn only stared at her, a puzzled expression on his face. This wasn't right. He knew that. She might be a rebel, but she didn't deserve this.

Arya was still pleading with her eyes when she was grabbed from behind. Then she felt a familiar pain through her navel. Agony seared through her as Morgana's instrument burned her insides, and she screamed without mercy.

Murtagh stood there watching her double over in pain while her pale face twisted and turned bloodless, his nails digging into his palms. He kept telling himself that he would do nothing, that he would only make things worse, that helping her had gotten into his mess, and that she needed to learn to obey as he had learned. But it wouldn't register, and every time he opened his mouth to speak or tried to step forward, Thorn would ask him if he remembered what the rod felt like and if he really thought that Galbatorix would stop. Murtagh liked those rebukes. They helped drown out Arya's screams.

Then it was over, and Galbatorix pulled the rod out. Arya lay panting on the ground, clutching her stomach and forcing herself not to vomit or think the word baby.

"Elf, perhaps I did not make myself clear the first time. Take off your dress," Galbatorix said.

Slowly, Arya reached for the hem and pulled it up. Then with a deep breath, she cast it over her head. Then she staggered to her feet. The only thing she was grateful for at this moment was her underclothes.

"Oh, they gave those," Galbatorix said. "Take them off too."

She didn't want to or mean to cry, but she did. It was too much. She had thought that her torture was done, that she would only have to hold out through Hathcyn's half-hearted attempts to play master, and now she was being forced to expose herself to this false king.

"I think she's learned her lesson." It was Hathcyn who spoke up. Murtagh had not said a word the entire time, and Arya hated him for it. It was his fault he had gotten her into this mess. His fault she had…But she wouldn't think it.

"You do?" Galbatorix asked. "I'm afraid I can't agree. Do as I say elf. It will be better for you in the long run."

Arya shook her head and wiped away her tears with her bare arm and then let her hair down from its bun. Then she stood and pulled off first her breastband and then her loincloth.

"I've brought them, your majesty. How long do you need them?" This time it was Morgana who spoke, and Arya looked up through her dark hair, puzzled. Then she had to fight down a blush. What seemed to be every guard and torturer from the dungeon was down there, ogling her.

Her breath caught in her chest, and she thought, _This is it. _She was going to be raped. She knew it now. She had been waiting for it to happen the entire time. But now that it was here, she found she couldn't face it. She wanted to run, but where to go? She wanted to hide, but there was no place too. She wanted to fight, but what good would it do? She wanted to cry, but her tears wouldn't come. She just stood there, watching them.

"This whore of an elf has been corrupting my red rider, filling him with lust, and I wanted you all to see if that was justified. Well, men, do you like what you see?" Galbatorix asked.

Everyone spoke up at once, but their voices sounded odd, as though she was underwater, and they were above surface. They weren't in her world. She was somewhere else, somewhere where she wouldn't feel them.

"Now men, I am also wondering if she tastes as good as you all thinks she looks, but I do not care to demean myself that much, so I ask you to tell me truthfully. After all, more than one opinion is always good. And by the way, Morgana, it is utterly ridiculous to avoid rape because it makes you jealous. Men lust after women other than you, you know. Silly fool of a daughter of mine."

_Help her, you idiot._

Hathcyn cocked his head to the side. That voice sounded oddly like Murtagh's.

_It is Murtagh's,_ Eofor cut in, _and you need to help her. She belongs to you after all, and she told you things about me, remember?_

_I want to help her, but how? _Hathcyn asked, and he meant it. He pitied her, he truly did. He just couldn't think of anything to do, and a more selfish part of him didn't want to loose contact with Eofor so soon after he had gotten it back.

_Listen to me, _Murtagh shouted.

_I'm listening, _Hathcyn replied.

_That's a nice change. Now, he's focused on her, so he won't hear this. You can help her, or at least try. Tell him that she's your property, that he gave her to you, and that you want her all to yourself. He likes you better than he likes me, _the red rider said.

_You know, rider, that just might work, _Hathcyn admitted.

_You're desperate, _Thorn told Murtagh. _Utterly, stupidly, thrice-dammed desperate! This can't work. Since when has Galbatorix respected property? _

_There's nothing else to do,_ Murtagh said. _Nothing else to do. If they hurt her, she'll blame me. And he won't hurt her like they will. Not even he could. _

_And what will I do when you can't stop thinking about him with her? I know you will, and I know it will annoy me, _Thorn said.

_I'll bear it. I've borne worse, _Murtagh said, scowling.

_Keep telling yourself that, rider of mine, _Thorn muttered.

"Stop!" Hathcyn shouted. "That's my slave."

Arya turned to look at the one who'd called her slave, and she wondered what he was doing or why he thought it could work. She didn't dare get her hopes up. They were sure to be dashed.

Galbatorix turned and gave him an odd look.

"My slave," he repeated. "Mine to beat and mine to fuck and mine to do whatever with. You gave her to me, remember? And you told me to strip her earlier, right? Because she was mine. Is mine, I mean. So let her go so I can have her."

"Did Murtagh tell you to do that? Or has Morgana enforced the point that she's your slave too much?" Gablatorix asked, a strange smile passing over his lips.

_That smile could mean anything,_ Arya thought. _Good or bad, it seals my fate. Let it amuse, and let that make him merciful. _The thought was ridiculous, and Arya dismissed it quickly. She could not afford false hope.

"A little bit of everything. I mean, everyone's been telling me she's mine, and I've just realized I want her," Hathcyn said quickly, wondering how convincing he sounded.

_You probably do. He doesn't think much of your intelligence, _Eofor said, and Hathcyn nearly laughed. Then Galbatorix opened his mouth to speak again, and Hathcyn's nerves began to mount. He might not be punished for this, but Arya was in trouble if his bluff went foul.

"Fine then," was what the king said, and Arya's hopes set sore without her consent. "Take her if you want her now."

_You don't want to take her in front of them because you don't want them to see you degrade yourself with a slave,_ Murtagh told him.

_When did I get so bloody proud? _Hathcyn asked.

_Just do it. And you're bloody arrogant, so this won't surprise anyone, _Murtagh told him.

"In front of these?" Hathcyn said, gesturing at the guards. "Why should they see one of your riders fucking a rebel slave?"

"Either you suddenly grew a brain, or Murtagh has become quite sly," Galbatorix said. "Well, I'm not a man who won't acknowledge another's cleverness. Which ever one of you is this good might remember these things on the battlefield."

_It worked. Your stupid, bloody-damned desperate plan worked, _Thorn, and Murtagh could practically see him shaking his head.

Arya did not whether to curse or to praise, to hurt him or to embrace him. He had damned her, and shamed her, and saved her all in one long, drawn-out, recklessly desperate argument, and she was nearly crying from relief and fear.

"Now," Galbatorix continued, "you will take her tonight, and I will know, and so will Murtagh. I think it's fair. But I cannot let her go unpunished. Or rather you cannot. She was insolent to your lord. Punish your slave. You reminded me that you have a right to beat her if you so desire, so beat her."

_Don't say that you don't desire it,_ Murtagh said quickly.

_What?_ Hathcyn asked.

"Is it so hard to comprehend?" Galbatorix asked.

Hathcyn shook his head.

_Pretend to hurt her more than you actually do. If you let him do it, he might just kill her, _Murtagh explained.

"Well then?" Galbatorix asked.

"I'll do it," Hathcyn said, and Arya nearly cursed him again. "Just let her clothe herself. I don't like other men seeing what's mine."

"Very well," Galbatorix said, and Arya was forced to dress in front of the guards. Once she was done, the false king sent them back to their duties.

"Well, this was supposed to be a lessen," Galbatorix said. "Let's see if I can teach you both. To start, see how high you can lift her with your magic."

Hathcyn proved that he could lift her very indeed, and Arya wondered if she would die instantly when he let her drop, as she was sure he would, or if she would linger in pain. Then he let her down slowly, only half-heartedly slamming her into the ground when Galbatorix asked him to. It still hurt.

Next he had to flip her until she was so dizzy her meager breakfast rebelled against her, and she wretched all over her dress, her loosened hair, and the ground. She only had a minute to lie in her own vomit and writhe in disgust before she was stretched.

_Think of the rack. It's not as bad as the rack, _she told herself during this exercise.

During the fifth exercise, she heard Galbatorix say, "Murtagh, where are you going?"

Arya looked up from the ground to see Murtagh turning to leave, determinedly looking away from her.

"I see no reason for me to watch him train," the red rider replied, his voice an uncharacteristic monotone. "I've done this all before."  
"Gods, you can't bear to see her hurt, can you? It's your fault, isn't it? Let's ask the elf. Isn't it all his fault?" Galbatorix taunted.

"It is his fault and my fault. That I'll admit. But I will not deny you your part. This was your doing and your will, Galbatorix. Accept the blame," Arya said, and Murtagh shook his head. Behind Galbatorix's back, she saw him mouth the word fool, and she could not deny its truth. She was a fool to hold onto her pride, but if she let it go, what did she have?  
Galbatorix's expression was unreadable as he said, "Hathcyn, I think she has quite had enough. The pain must be terrible if she has acknowledged my responsibility for her fate. Remember that, elf. It's probably the only wisdom that's come from you and your race." Then he turned to Hathcyn and Murtagh and said, "Take her away. I don't care which of you does it. Just get her out of my sight." Then he paused and saidm "No, wait. Let's see if she can walk. You heard me, elf. Try to walk."

Arya did not look up from the ground. She could walk; she knew that, but she did not want Galbatorix to know that. Her beating had hurt but not as much as it should have. So she stood slowly and then pretended to fall back down. She caught herself and the last minute and gasped in pain as she stood again. She refused to look at the king, instead looking at Murtagh and Hathcyn, both of whom were watching her performance as eagerly as Galbatorix. Then ever so slowly she began to stagger forward. Suddenly, very real stab of pain shot up her leg, making her cry out, and she pitched forward. This time, Murtagh caught her, holding onto her far longer than was necessary.

And somehow, it did not anger her as it should have. She should have attempted to push him away, but instead she leaned against him. One part of her was telling herself that this was just part of her act, and the other part was whispering, _You still want him._ Then, a third, nearly silent voice was whispering something even more damning, but Arya refused to even hear it.

"Let me walk on my own, Murtagh," she whispered.

"Then let go of me," he replied.

Arya closed her eyes and gritted her teeth. _Fool,_ she told herself. Then she pulled away. A strange sensation began to creep into her stomach, and she put a hand to it. She began to scream as her insides began to burn.

"Yes, it burns, doesn't it?" Galbatorix asked. "That is your punishment. It's better than letting him fuck you, you see. You could just curl up inside of yourself in that nice little coma. Instead you get to feel a hint of what I felt when I lost my dragon. That's something that your precious race never felt. If they had, they would have never denied my request. They would have helped me instead of scorning me. But they didn't. And you know what they got."

Arya was silent. The burning sensation was creeping up her torso and down her legs. She had to bite the pain back. Then something else came: a sense of loss and utter loneliness. She was alone in a pain that none could see or touch. She was burning on the inside, and none could quench it.

"What did they get?" Galbatorix asked. "Do you feel the pain? Your insides are burning. You feel as though you've lost something, don't you? I would make you feel the severing, but I can't. But then I don't need to, do I? You've lost a child within you, and I've lost my other half."

"I never…" Arya began.

"You did," Galbatorix said. "You were pregnant when you first came here, and now you're not. Shame Morgana killed such valuable leverage. Murtagh did something useful, and she ruined it."

Arya turned back to look at Murtagh, wanting to know how he would react, and saw shock plastered on his face.  
_Does it hurt, Murtagh? Do you care? Or are you just surprised that there could have been consequences to what we did? But then, Arya, you're as foolish as he is. You didn't think at all, did you? Stupid, stupid. And now you're paying for it in every way._

Galbatorix was still talking, "Shame, shame."

_My shame, _Arya thought, _and yours, red rider. At least now you look sad. _

"We could have turned you, and the elves and your rider would have been betrayed again. I did love betraying them the first time. Vengeance is sweet, elf. Surely you understand? Your people are out for vengeance against me, but they deserved my betrayal. They refused to pity me because they know nothing, and I gave them what they deserved. There you hear? What they deserved. And it was sweet."

"NO!" Arya screamed. "You took your dragon to the Urgals. You risked it, and when she died, the elders couldn't replace her. It would have been an abomination."  
"Really?" Galbatorix snapped. "Then suppose I were to do something abominable to stop the pain? Would you take it?" Arya only stared up at him. The hand he clamped over her arm was the only thing keeping her up. "Don't bother answering. You would. Do not deny it." He stood there for a moment, and the burning continued, worsening. It felt as though a thousand flaming tongues were licking at her insides, caressing her organs and setting them ablaze. And even worse, she could not sweat for her skin was like ice.

_Ice on fire. Dark on light. Black on white. Human in elf. Abomination. It's all an abomination, _she thought, and then she laughed at her rhyme. A glimpse of Murtagh's face showed concern. _No, I am the abomination, and he thinks me insane. Well, maybe I am. I'm burning and freezing all at once. That's madness enough, and _ _I deserve it. I betrayed them. This is my punishment. He'll kill me and the baby within me whom he thinks is dead, and Morgana will laugh, and Murtagh will forget, and Hathcyn will destroy us all. Let it end. Let it end. Let it end._ Then the coma took her, and it ended for a moment.

Galbatorix let her fall to the ground, loving the sound of her body striking the stone. Then he said, "Riders, take her to Deandra. The healer should have something new to work on. If she can fix this, she'll be worth keeping."

The reason this took so long was because I intended to add more but then realized it would end up being too rushed. Sorry about the long wait. I've had projects. Lots and lots of projects. And tests too. And exams are coming up soon, so that's part of the problem. Oh, and I am an awful promise-breaker. I know it well.

Chocaholic4life: Yeah, you called me out on that. Thanks. I'm glad that you like this.

The Rabid Sock: Really? Thanks. I'm glad that I've converted you.

Treeonfire: Well, cat's out of the bag. Sorta.

Roguelane: Yay! You're back. I'm glad that you liked everything. And no, the tooth really can't grow back.

Katherine J: Yeah, it'll be an interesting moment. Or moments.

JAVI.815-47: I'm sorry for not doing that.

POD6: Thanks. And yeah, Murtagh can't be all good.

QueenOfTheUnknown: No, my teachers have just been keeping me obscenely busy.

Stripysockz: Thanks for not being angry at me. And I'm glad that you love to hate Morgana. That's what I've been going for.

xAndromedaBlackx: I'm glad that you think my fic is so good. And you're right about Morgana.

Fredsonetrueluv: I'm glad that you liked that line. And Morgana definitely likes to make people squirm.

Blue-eyed Chica: I understand your sentiment.

Maze2010: And you had to wait longer. I'm so sorry. cringes

Treeonfire13: I guess you could say that.

Mayarider: Thanks.

Padfoot and Stacey: I'm glad that you liked it. And I'm also glad that you thought that Morgana wasn't an Evil!Sue.

Iama: It was actually one of Hathcyn's spirits in her head.

CaramelBoost: Yeah, you were right about the stupid typos. And Murtagh sorta found out about the baby. He just thinks it's dead. And I guess I would be interested in the club.

EmyuRR: I do too. Which is probably why this is a cliff-hanger as well.

xLzM: Well, I'm glad that you read it fast and that you liked it.


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